The Career Conundrum — An Open Letter to a High-Scorer

arts

Hey there!

I heard you got your SSLC (Secondary School Leaving Certificate) results sometime last week.

Looks like you’ve done pretty well, huh?

The whole of Tamil Nadu rejoiced that over 40 students had scored 499/500. What fierce competition! And for something as trivial as memorizing a certainly erroneous textbook.

Surprised? Didn’t you realize how silly your syllabi were? How can you claim printing blunders as petty?

Plus, the top people in the education department worry about the falling standards. At this rate, they say, top-scorers wouldn’t stand a chance in a nation-wide evaluation.

Some even suggested new syllabi for better education.

No worries though. This result is still a big deal.

Your parents know it. But it seems you don’t. And that’s why I decided to knock some sense into your over-creative head.

How come you haven’t realized it yet? This result determines your future! The more you score, the greater your chances are for groups 1 or 2 — which is eventually Engineering. Or Medicine  —  if you’re that ambitious.

But I hear you have something else in mind. Trust me, you don’t want to hear about the third group.

Only those who are too stupid and lazy to study choose the Arts. Oh, yes.

As Indian, nothing is more prestigious than becoming an Engineer or Doctor. They are the highest-paying jobs and will earn you a lump dowry in the marriage market. Why would you want to give up on that?

There’s a saying, “Indians become an Engineer first and then decide what they want to become in life.” Like most people, you probably think it’s just another of those Facebook fads, but it sure as hell is not.

True, most Engineering graduates spend four years discerning the mechanics of things they care naught for.

Then there’s the MBA infatuation.

After wasting years and parents’ money, they spend a couple more years suited-up in college. They hope it’ll be their cherry, but none of them notices the ice-cream melting.

Because it’s all part of the social convention. The more you follow the common folk, the less they’ll look down on you.

Besides, melting ice-cream’s pretty amazing, don’t you think?

Choose the Arts, and people would judge you sooner than your high-school teacher. Arts graduates spend the next five to all their years explaining to an unbelieving mob why they don’t like Engineering.

And how can you not like Engineering? It’s not like you have a choice  —  it’s like primary education.

Denying a degree in engineering is declining a basic need. After all, in today’s India, engineering is survival instinct.

Choose the Arts, and you’ll be lower than everyone else who were wise enough to avoid it.

Choose the Arts, and you’ll drabble in unemployment and poverty for the rest of your life.

Choose the Arts if your Dad’s a money machine. Otherwise, be wise.

Unless you can become the next Shakespeare or Michael Jackson  — just  don’t do the Arts. Only a fool picks the Arts over Engineering.

Trust me though; no one else will say this to your face. Instead, they’ll tell you it’s awesome to follow your dreams  — because no one else dares.

There’s a reason no one else dares.

Your classmates  —  the would-be engineers who hope to land an unrelated career  —  would tell you how pitiful their life is. At least your family considered your interests.

Whereas your family would counsel you on how foolish it is to choose the Arts. How it’s a dying breed, how doing Engineering before anything is a backup if you ever flunk your dream  —  because hey, shit happens.

If you come out of it, and still wish to do Arts, then perhaps I underestimated you. Perhaps you do have a strong will.

No matter. The rest of society will succeed where your family didn’t. A month or two in the real world and you’ll probably run off to an Engineering college, realizing  — but not accepting  — ‘Mom knows best.’

There aren’t many people who endure all that negativity and still stand their ground.

Of those few, just a handful succeed. Most of the Arts folk are just depressed, alone and bitter. And definitely cynical.

Because that’s what society does to you. They’d tell you to be yourself  — but if you do, they’ll crush you.

You could be unknown, you could be broke  — but remember one thing. No one knows Banksy, the person.

And real Artists don’t care.

Giving Thanks, the Tamil Way

I am a South Indian and my mother tongue is Tamil.

I just said that, because today is a special day for us Tamils. It’s called Pongal.

Pongal is also a famous food item prepared with rice. It could either be sweet – prepared with jaggery, and ghee roasted cashews, or savory – prepared with lots of black pepper.

It’s the day farmers thank the Sun for a good year’s harvest and pray for a better harvest the following year. It’s like Thanksgiving Day for them. It’s only their special day, farmers who work so hard to fill our plates – but as things go on the real world, we all get a public holiday.

Ironically though, while the rest of us relax and rest, farmers spend the day making pongal and offering it to the Sun god. The following day, is a celebration for the cattle that helps in farming. They bathe their cattle, feed them grandly and thank them too. The following day is when they take meat – and in grand fashion too! Generally, it’s a week-long celebration for farmers.

Students celebrate this holiday as much as the farmers; all schools and colleges close for a whole week. And with the weekend just around the corner, most people have gone home to family to celebrate the holidays. They make pongal early in the morning, offer it to the various gods they worship, and spend the whole afternoon watching the back-to-back movies telecasted on TV. A typical holiday at a typical (modern) South Indian home.

Did I mention Pongal is one of the most auspicious days of the Tamil calendar?

Thought you ought to know.

The Age Factor

I used to talk a lot about the pathetic conditions of the education system in India. Now though, it bores even me. But I came across something that made me laugh out loud, and even head to the internet for clarity.

Here it is.

age factor


This is just for fun. Print mistakes occur everywhere, but I would have liked it if the education authorities gave as much importance to details like these, as they do to grades.

P.S – This is from an official text for B.A English graduate course.

Two of a Kind

“Feeling the stares of everyone around her, she closed her eyes, took a bite, and imagined she was eating imported chocolate.” — Today’s Author

two of a kind

Knowing what the peanut bar was going to do to her only made it difficult. She felt her eyes well up in fear and in anger.

How dare they make her eat that stuff knowing well that she was allergic?

She chewed slowly, dreading the pain the peanut bar would cause. But there was no way out; her seniors were determined to get to her. They had been ragging juniors the whole day, and the management was purposefully oblivious.

She kept chewing, her tongue unwilling send in the poison. One of the seniors lost her patience.

“Eat up, midget! We haven’t got all day!” The others cheered and egged her.

With nothing else to do, Kate swallowed the lump of peanuts. She could feel it move slowly down her throat, as she took another bite.

Her body felt sore when she woke up in the hospital. Her worst fear had become reality — the peanuts had caused painful boils all over her skin.

She tried to remember.

She had eaten the whole peanut bar, and the seniors had left her, choking, under the tree.

Then how did she get here?

Just then, a skinny boy walked in. He looked pale, but she wasn’t sure whether it was his natural complexion or just looking at her made him uncomfortable.

When he spoke though, he showed no sign of disgust.

“My sister and her friends are always doing stuff like this. I’m really sorry you had to endure this.”

Kate stared at the boy, not knowing how to react. That bully was this boy’s sister?

For some reason, she could empathize with the boy as much as he did with her.

She tried to speak, but could only manage a weak smile. Seeing her smile, the boy’s face lit up.

“I’m William.”

And thus began a new chapter.