Adieu XIMBALAND- Mi Alma Mater, Mi Amor

I unlatched the door and walked into the room where memories had been made for the past year and a half. D-57 has been home to me for all the time that I have studied at XIMB. While most of my first year was spent sprawled on the floor chatting with my best friend, my second year saw me take ownership from Gani and become his neighbor down below. Pushing the flashback aside, I unwrapped my freshly printed block t-shirt. The devil grinned back at me and tempted me to think of all the mindless acts that I had been a part of. This block had a legacy which every member of it unwittingly became a part of. From having earned a name of the most notorious and laid back of blocks to one which would never fail to surprise you, I would have to say that D-Block had given me possibly more joy than any other fraternity I have been a part of. I won’t dwell deeper into this, for the memories and legacies are too intricate and too many.

I pull off my sweaty old tshirt and pull on the new one with a tiny sense of pride and a larger sense of sadness. The inevitable departure is lurking round the corner, but for now, there are better things to dwell on. I push off the bed and closet my thoughts. I reach out for my companion of over a year, strapping her onto my back and striding out of my den, armed for a new venture of capturing events and framing them forever.  My camera has possibly been the best gift one could ever ask for. It has let me capture numerous moments which I would like to look back on fondly in the future. Sure, the human mind is an intricate box which stores all in it, but memories fade. Photographs don’t.

I run into a couple of friends sitting by the curb and chatting and fire off a few clicks. The smiles on their faces shows that they are grateful for the clicks. I make a mental note to send the snaps as soon as possible. I pass the academic block as I turn towards the gate and without a moments’ hesitation, the memories flood in. My first step into the college, my reluctance to go down this rabbit hole, the all familiar Catholic institution feeling, my sudden desire to achieve this goal, the pit in my stomach as I step in for those dreaded interviews, the twisted questions, the convoluted answers, the wait, the convert, the notice, the registration. Infosys was never in my fate. Maybe it was fate or just sheer luck which dragged me back to my place of birth. Maybe life wanted me to spend a couple more years before I stepped out to challenge and face the world. Am I disappointed by the decision I took? No. Who knows where life would have taken me had I skipped this opportunity. But I sure as hell don’t regret being here.

What will I take away from here? Is it only a degree?  A piece of paper changing my resume? Nay, I think its far more than that. All those moments of laughter, of shared notes, life stories, of guilt trips, midnight snacks, cravings and musings. Of crushes and ambitions, of dreams and desires, of failures and near misses. I move on with a ton of memories. Every nook and cranny holds memories associated with some venture. I will remember all those meetings for presentations and business ventures, of the first cement bag mixed to build our shop, of the first sale, the first loss, the hurried note making, and the inevitable frustration of examinations, the hangover of parties and the desperate need for chats.

I stride out to my regular tea shop, grab a cup of tea and sit down. A small group of the current first years babble on about professors, classes and the pressure getting to them. A small part of me wants to tell them it gets worse before it gets better, before I realize that some things in life are better appreciated if learnt without influences. I smile to myself and walk over to exchange a few words with my friends before heading back in. Walking back to my hostel, I notice a fellow member of my committee and start to reminisce about the late night meetings, arguments, counter arguments, compromises and hair splitting disagreements which bound us as we moved from shadow to core. Time does fly by. It’s already time for us to pass the baton yet I feel I haven’t done justice to all that I was bestowed with. Maybe I could have taught people to debate better, learnt photography better, and done better work for the myriad of other committees I worked with.  Life comes knocking but once. I just hope I did justice while answering them. I hope I did right by everyone. I hope I did.

I realize that my days are numbered. I must say it’s scary. I realize that I will finally be stepping into the world in a role that in all probability I am not and might never be ready for. That a new level of responsibility lies on me now and the onus of failure is larger than that of success. I hope I see my friends again. I hope we meet in favorable times. I hope they don’t change, and neither do I. But until then, let me make the most of these stolen moments in the world that I inhabit. Where all that matters is what I make of life and opportunities within these walls. And how it plays out when I stand back and stare.

I realize that it’s time for the launch. The customary signal of the looming send off. Maxinations. I raise my head to the clouds. I whisper a silent prayer of thanks for it all. I shake my head at the incredulousness of it all and walk back to dive one last time into the whirlpool before it flings me out forever and leaves me as a mere onlooker. I am happy. 

Dare we Host The Olympics?

The constant urge to surpass all known boundaries has been one of the major instruments responsible for the evolution of mankind. It is what was important in major discoveries like the wheel and even the rise and fall of great empires. Therefore, it would be right to say that when the urge to redefine human boundaries is lost, the path to victory becomes but a distant dream. Having always been a patriot, I find it very disturbing that our country has become an ideal example for such situations. When it comes to making the final leap or putting in the final effort, we refuse to get off the couch, thinking it’s not our job. Imagine the shame when a nation with a population of one billion, where sports stars are God, it is a matter of great shame if we are unable to bring home any major sporting event. Sporting authorities the world over have snubbed our sports associations by highlighting the lack of infrastructure. Recently, when the charge for organising the 2016 Olympics was given to Brazil, analysts here at home started questioning why India was unable to even be shortlisted as one of the finalists. However, when we come to think of it in a rational and logical sort of way, we realise that various factors are responsible for this dismal state of affairs in the nation. Let us dwell a bit deeper into the factors at play here and try to reach a logical conclusion as to the maladies crippling our sports system.

When we start to analyse the situation, it would only be fair to compare ourselves with the previous host of the event, our neighbour, China. Whenever discussion turns to the New World Order, these neighbouring giants are always mentioned in the same breath as the up-and-comers. I understand the arguments, but remain deeply sceptical about the prospects for both countries, though for vastly different reasons.

With the Beijing 2008 Olympics drawing to a close, one must concede that China has managed to pull off a fabulously successful advertisement for itself, even though its ugly authoritarianism and environmental shamefulness remained on plain view throughout. So the question nags: Could India hold an Olympics that would flatter, rather than embarrass the nation? I, for one, seriously doubt it.

The Olympics requires the host nation to provide three basic elements: infrastructure, architecture, pageantry. This is no mean feat; just ask the organizers of Athens 2004 and Atlanta 1996. Greece failed in two of the three, just managing to save face, largely as a result of the world’s extremely low expectations. The United States failed across the board.

Infrastructure development takes vision and planning – not areas in which India has distinguished itself. Delhi is the only metro in the country which appears to spend on infrastructure in anything but an ad hoc, purely corruption-driven way – not that Delhi’s version of forethought has made it even remotely the world-class city it purports to be. Sure, it is difficult to remake old cities – although that is, essentially, what Beijing has done – but even its built-from-scratch, nouveaux riches commercial neighbor, Gurgaon, is an almost perfect study in tastelessness and dysfunction.

One of India’s most challenging infrastructural problems, from an international public relations point of view, would be to develop habits and systems of internationally acceptable public hygiene. I suspect that most first-time visitors to India will be under-impressed by the filth and noise of their surroundings, and the television cameras will have a difficult time avoiding the blight of omnipresent garbage, which flows through the streets of India the way water flows in riverbanks.

Perhaps India, like Greece, might shine in the spectacle, even if they would fail in the organizational aspects of building proper infrastructure to host the athletes and visitors in style and comfort. From classical dance to Bollywood, India shines in artistic performance. But would this kind of close-up oriented presentation captivate the world when executed on the scale of an Opening Ceremonies? Perhaps not. Have you ever attended a major pop concert in India (or involving India performers traveling abroad, for that matter)? They are unwatchably cheesy. A.R. Rahman may write world-class music, and Adnan Sami and Asha Bholse may be stars of Indian popular song, but their live concerts are hideously amateurish affairs. They are often accompanied by filmy dancing which, though so attractive on the screen, comes off as a bad joke when the scale of the movements is dwarfed by the live venue.

Architecture is an extremely important element in the Olympic mix if, as with China, the aim is to establish one’s prestige and announce one’s global intentions. It expresses a country’s ambition, accomplishment, sense of style, sophistication, and ability to produce tangible outcomes suited to a major occasion. Most of the world sees the host nation only via satellite feed, and images of the Olympic venues are the ubiquitous “context-establishing shots” which begin the coverage of almost every event. A country can do no better advertising for itself when hosting an Olympics than provide monumental, attractive architecture. This has certainly been a key part of China’s strategy – and it has worked.

Are there great Indian architects working today? Surely there must be. But what are they building? And would insular, foreigner-resenting India consider commissioning high-profile Olympic buildings from international architects? Never. Indian national pride would never allow it to do what even xenophobic China was able to do – what the entire rest of the world does: commission world class architecture from throughout the world.

Then there is the little problem of paying for the infrastructure and new architecture. After the politicians and bureaucrats have siphoned-off their monumental bribes and contractors have been selected on the basis of kick-backs rather than ability, will the bid-winners have sufficient talent and remaining resources to deliver quality buildings, on time? There is certainly plenty of past experience on which to hazard a prediction.

I have tremendous affection for India, and a like degree of antipathy for China. But there is no question which country has announced its presence on the world stage with panache and which can never hope to do so. “I love my India” as much as the next guy, but not because it has a prayer of achieving greatness in my lifetime.

First hand Experience

Well, this is just one more step to try and be a jack of all trades and a master of some. Although i do enjoy writing and expressing my opinions,I'm too much of a lazy bum to post it anywhere at all. However, I've decided to break the routine and dabble a bit with blogs to express the torrent of ideas which stir up in my mind from time to time.

Wish me Luck!!

Spandan