For some weird reason, we associate busyness with productivity. But being busy has nothing whatsoever to do with productivity. Kierkegaard sure thinks so.
Chapter Twenty Eight: Education Burdens
“Keep in mind everyone, once you graduate, you’ll become an integral part of society.” It was another one of those lectures that the final year students had to sit through. The lecturer was their principal. They had a lot of those nowadays. The principal spoke most of the time, but occasionally, they invited famous pep speakers to give guest lectures. It was a routine torture for the final years. Old people talking, and insisting about the importance of higher education and the social recognition it creates.
A lot of students grew annoyed every time this happened; a handful of students felt higher education was just an excuse to live off their parents’ money. A few others had had enough of text books and studying. They wanted to move on, and start living their lives.
Some others paid attention to every little detail of the lectures. They considered higher formal education, and MBA seemed like a good idea. They were most of the rich people who had access to mounds of gold their parents and grandparents had preserved. But they were just a small group.
The majority, like Praveena, had decided to end their formal education. Praveena felt as if college had taken over the best years of her life; that she was spending her life being miserable, by choice, when she could have done something meaningful. She now thought about it a lot. She wondered of the future, and what it would hold for her. She had always evaded thinking ahead, but now the time was ripe to make some serious plans — ‘and a few contingency plans too’ her inner voice added. She remained undecided though.
Anil had decided to do his MBA; he had decided to remain in Bangalore. He wanted to take on a part time job and fend for himself — at least a portion of his personal expenses.
“What would you do?” Anil asked one day as they sat in the canteen, having lunch.
Praveena shrugged. She knew she should have made a decision by now, but she couldn’t make her mind up. The thought of graduating without Niveda still disturbed her. “Stay at home for some time, maybe. Have some fun, until I come up with something.” she said hoping for something of another holiday. Anil didn’t seem to think likewise.
“You going to settle down?” he asked, looking disappointed.
“Ya, I’m thinking,” she said unsure “for a while.”
Anil almost laughed. “I was talking about marriage, you idiot!” he tried to control his laughter, and failing.
“Oh,” Praveena smiled sheepishly, “nope, not marriage.” she said, and added indignantly “I’m too young for that!” Anil laughed with her.
“So,” he probed again, once the laughter had died down, “you’re going to stay home, for a while?”
Praveena nodded chewing on her lunch, not saying anything.
As Praveena’s final exams approached, she couldn’t miss the tension and the excitement that was obvious in almost every soul in the college. The teachers were the most happy with the end of the course. They often referred to Praveena’s batch as the worst batch they had had to teach. Niveda’s issue had been an added negative for them to cling on to. They showed their eagerness to be rid of the troublesome batch.
The students were on par with the teachers in terms of joy. There were plenty of goodbye parties in the hostels. From the girls’ hostel, Praveena could hear the racket coming from the boys’ hostel. It was the same every night. These parties usually happened after the exams, some seniors had told her, but this time, the parties had begun way ahead. She too felt like putting her book down and partying. Knowing they would be free after this one final exam made it all the more difficult to concentrate. Praveena’s mind kept wandering to the enjoying phase after the exams.
She forced herself to study. ‘One last time,’ convincing herself.
The final paper of the final exam was upon them. That morning, Anil and Praveena met in the canteen as usual and had an unusual, quiet breakfast. Praveena was feeling plenty of emotions at the same time. She was happy college life had come to a close. She was reluctant to leave Bangalore; she had enjoyed the city’s refreshing climate. She would leave Anil behind, and that was painful too. He had been her closest friend and only comfort after Niveda. She was thankful to him for staying by her side, throughout the tough episodes of Niveda’s treatment and death.
But most of all, it was the thought of Niveda. During the first year, when Praveena was just beginning to get accustomed to Niveda’s regular chatter, she would imagine themselves graduating together, and then remaining friends for life. Every time she thought of it, she wanted to weep. She cast the thought aside, deciding instead, to focus on her sandwich.
“Last day,” Anil observed. He sneaked a look at Praveena to catch her reaction. “Yeah,” She nodded as memories swivelled in her head.
They finished the exam, and met again for a quiet lunch.
“I’ll miss you, Praveena” Anil said flatly. “You are my best friend, you know.” he pursed his lips in a tight smile.
Praveena looked at him, a long calculating look. She knew she would miss him too, more than she could say.
“Me too,” she ended the conversation.
My Day, Every Day
I have a journal.
I used to write in it every day. But as time went by, I reduced my correspondence; unconsciously, I wrote on it only when I got too stressed, too sad, or upset over something.
What began as a medium of sharing my life, soon became a medium to vent. And then I realized, that’s not how you treat a diary.
My diary is my friend, and what’s the difference between me and other people if I’m using my diary only to complain?
And then I read in another blog about the good things the author had in her life. That’s when it hit me: I’m not pathetic; I have a life, and a thumping good one too.
People might think all I ever do — from 7 to 7 —is sit in my place and stare into my laptop, but no one knows how much there’s within my screen.
I read some excellent and funny articles on McSweeny’s, I watch food porn on Facebook, I chat with friends from far away, I share a photo status, I write a blog post or two, I read a few blogs, I comment on some more, I like plenty. Then I go for a coffee break, and I get back, hating myself for not sticking to the ‘drink less caffeine’ rule. Chiding myself, I get on with work — because I have to be sincere to what I earn — and then in the middle of it, I leave for a quiet lunch with a colleague, then some tea, and more Facebook, and again my personal blog, a little bit of reading, editing, writing, and rewriting.
And all the while, my headphones never come off.
And then as the sun sets, I leave for dinner and then back home. I take a good twenty minutes to relax and get out of the office-mood, and lying on my bed, I unwind — for now, with Jane Austen’s Persuasion.
What do I have to complain?
Chapter Twenty Seven: Home
Kamal waltzed to the tune in his mind as Praveena entered the kitchen. He swayed this way making coffee and toast. He turned to get the jar of honey, when he noticed Praveena standing on the doorway, watching him dance, with a quiet smile on her face.
“You hungry?” he asked concerned, “It’ll take just a minute,” he added, wiping his hands on a towel.
“Pa,” Praveena began her heart heavy, “I want to tell you something.” Kamal eyed her curiously, hands on his hips. And then, all of a sudden, the toaster popped.
“Let’s talk about it over breakfast,” he said gathering the toast onto a plate while Praveena took the coffee pot. They sat at the dining table, facing each other. Praveena began again, “Pa,” she cleared her throat, and then told him everything—from Niveda’s addiction, and their efforts to get help, to her suicide. Her voice broke every now and then, but she managed to tell the tale without crying. Kamal mushed on his toast, listening without interrupting. He gave a lot of reactions, all at the appropriate times, but did nothing to distract Praveena. He let her speak. From her well–rehearsed narrative he realized she had gone over the details more than once.
Praveena finished and took a sip of her black, sugarless coffee. She waited to hear her father’s response. A few minutes of silence later he said, “eat.”
Praveena ate. He said nothing more until after breakfast. Even after they had finished, and the dishes were done, Kamal still hadn’t said a work. Praveena could bear it no longer, “Why aren’t you saying anything, Pa?” When he looked at her questioningly, she tried again, “about — ”
“I know what you meant, Praveena” he cut her off gently. “Now, go and sleep for a while.”
Praveena was stunned. She had just told her father her closest friend had committed suicide next to her bed, and here he stood, telling her to go and have a nap! She couldn’t believe her ears. Seeing the confusion on her face, Kamal said. “You know what? I think your mother’s ghost has possessed me.” Praveena raised her eyebrows. “Go and sleep, I can see you haven’t had that in a while.” He gestured her to go upstairs.
Praveena couldn’t conceal her surprise. She smiled at Kamal, even though she didn’t say a word, her smile was so full of love that Kamal understood how much she appreciated him. She went upstairs to her room and sat cross legged on her bed. She tried calling Ms Marrie, but the result was the same as always: Subscriber beyond network reach.
She looked around her room, all her things remained in the same place, except it was cleaner than she had ever kept it. She lay back, looking up at the ceiling fan, and as the memories engulfed her, she drifted away into a deep sleep.
Ten days later, Praveena returned to college, happy she had gotten what she wanted off the holiday, though it didn’t make her less miserable. With the start of college came back the assignments — harder than ever before — and the stares, the pointing, and the never ending whispering.
“They are the drug addict’s friends.”
“You think they do drugs as well?”
“Why didn’t the principal chase them from the college?”
Ten days had been enough for the matter to sink in; for them to speak with their parents and come back with emotions stronger than before.
“Oh, these drug addicts!” a girl whispered to herself as she walked away from Praveena and Anil. Praveena recognized the girl; she and her friends had gotten dead drunk, and been making a racket in the hostel the other day.
The comments followed them throughout college. From the class rooms to the bathrooms, every where people pointed them out. Every one spoke of them, even most of the teachers. Given their way, Anil and Praveena would’ve been expelled. They were irritated with the principal for not making the decision. All those teachers enjoyed fantasising, “if I had been the principal, blah blah blah…” Praveena ignored them, she knew — only too well — that they were barking dogs. Useless in action.
“Third year is the toughest year,” Anil complained to Praveena in a low voice. They were in class, trying to keep the conversation low and alive at the same time.
“That’s what we say every year,” Praveena whispered back, looking at the notes on the white board. For others’ eyes, it would have seemed like she was reading, but Anil knew better; Praveena was far from concentrating. And so was he.
They had got their results of the previous year’s final exams. Both Praveena and Anil had scraped a pass in all subjects with no arrears. They had heard and seen their seniors bragging about their arrears as if it were an achievement and then worrying about it during exams. Anil and Praveena had already promised themselves not to fall into that pit, and were glad they wouldn’t have to deal with it. Their celebration was punctured however, when their lecturer assigned them individual projects about psychological studies in various fields.
Praveena got Psychological Studies in Education’ and Anil got ‘Psychological Studies in Corporates’. They got busy.
Praveena realised her life moving on when one day, she looked around her room and saw there was only one cot in the centre of the room. There was no indication that there had been another person sharing the room. Praveena sighed and got into bed. She lay awake, looking at the ceiling fan. ‘life’s become too predictable,’ she mused as she turned over and fell asleep.
She knew what to expect when she awoke the next day: More assignments, submitting projects, distribution of marks, and more about studies on humans. Not just for the following day; that’s all she had to look forward to for another entire year.
Praveena wasn’t disappointed. The final year at college was full of busy assignments and revision exams. Teachers all pushed them hard, encouraging students to do the same. “A degree is a priceless asset.” They said. “Study hard now and you’ll be rewarded later.”
Impromptu pep talks popped up everywhere, even in the corridors, discouraging students to think about anything other than studies. Anil and Praveena studied. Everyday, they felt Niveda’s loss, but they also felt her presence. It was as if Niveda was there, with them — invisible — but sitting along with them while they prepared for the exams that — according to their teachers — ‘would change their lives.’
The End. Of Another Month
As November comes to a rainy close, at least here in Chennai, I’m proud of myself for dedicating a month-full of posts on this blog. Though it was just an edited chapter of my two-year old attempt at something of a novel, I’m happy with how things turned out.
But I’m still not done. I’ve published 26 chapters, but I have more on the way. So I’ve decided to take on another full month of publishing every day.
This month, however, instead of publishing a chapter everyday, I’ll alternate my chapters with random thoughts as well.
If you’ve been reading the novel in parts, let me know what you think. I’d love to hear how others felt reading whatever I wrote.
Thanks for stopping by today. It means so much to have you here. Have a nice day, you.
