So again, like last week , it’s past ten now and I feel this compulsive urge to write about something I have been feeling like writing since forever.
I am dishevelled , my books strewn all around and there is a glass of hot milk on my study table ( for which , exactly five minutes later I am going to be chided for not drinking) and I can hear my grandma’s daily serials playing loudly in the living room.
The books mentioned above are the ones I am supposed to study from for my upcoming semester exams. These are the very books which everyone is expected to learn from. The books have been designed with the very intention of making the reader fall asleep and probably force the particular subject down the reader’s throat , which in my case is economics.
But do the authors care? Does anyone in this country even want anything to be learnt in ways which are interesting? Or do they just want to emboss vast concepts into our brains with the mere intention of making us get grades? Now this, is a classic example of a rhetorical question.
The university has come up with a ” credit system” , one based on international standards. The highest grade in such a system is ‘O’ or outstanding (yeah potterheads, I know what you are thinking). And now, everyone’s focus at the moment is how to get that coveted ‘O’ in their papers– whether they enjoy the subject or not , is of utter irrelevance.
So now starts the time, when phones get exiled to the switched off mode, pens are rigorously exercised and minds start emitting poisonous fumes of confusion!Here it comes , the exam time – when India will once again be obsessed with it’s O grade.
I hear my mother’s footsteps (remember the milk prediction?!). The milk is drunk at neck-breaking speed and with a fine milky moustache above the lips, my face now looks like that of an unwise old sage. I take a deep breath and sigh. Nobody cares that I decided to blog in the midst of the impending doom which the exams have brought. Nobody cares that I am dedicated to keep alive , a passion in me – even when I know that it will be appreciated by only a few loyal friends and relatives!
After all, all that matters for success in this country is an O grade. A god damned O grade. As I look down into my drab textbook, the isoquant curves start looking like evil grins…and the iso-cost lines of production function seem ready to guillotine me and hurtfully intersect the poor soul within me !