A friend of mine recently graduated with a PhD. I asked the good Doctor, "Where did you get the courage to study so much?" He made a simple reply, "I loved every moment of it." After he left, the thought stayed with me. I had also spent a lot of time studying - twenty one years or 66% of my life thus far. In one week, I will be receiving my MBA diploma. Naturally, I directed the question at myself. "Where did I get the courage to study so much?" I could not say that I loved every moment of it. Then, why did I do it?
As I thought more about it, I realized that the answer was quite complex. Different forces worked at different times, and I not only went to school but also did well. In the beginning I did it just because my parents told me to do so. Sometimes, I did it because I didn't have anything better to do. Once, I did it to impress a lovely girl. Another time, I did it because of the respect it brought me. Mostly, I did it because it paid off every time. I believed that it was the best way to give my family and myself a better life. I also wanted to be a useful member of the society. I assumed that the more skilled I am, the more useful I would be. Lastly, I did it because my family supported me throughout – often allocating majority of their income to my academic pursuits. Thank you Mom & Dad!
I will now take a school bus down the memory lane – maybe in brief.
I have very hazy memories of my first school, which was in Sao Pualo, Brazil. I remember that all the kids used to call me an Indian. Although, I didn't understand what it meant, I used to cry and assert that I was a Brazilian. Today, I know very well that am an Indian – and am proud to be one. I am also proud of my international and multi-ethnic background. My parents tell me that my Portuguese was pretty good! Unfortunately, today, I cannot say anything other than Obrigado!
My family moved to our ancestral village in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, from Brazil. As I attended my next school, I lived through the aftermath of Indira Gandhi assassination. I did not understand most of what was happening other than that someone really important had died. That I didn't understand death as well is beside the point. Maybe I still do not!
My school day used to start with signing a very beautiful poem by Allama Iqbal, the great Urdu poet, "Lab pe aati hai duwa ban ke tammana meri, zindagi ho shamma ki soorat khudaya meri." Without doing justice to his sheer genius, it roughly means, "It is my desire that my life may become a beacon of hope." As I sat with my class-mates on empty sacks on the floor, Mullahs of the Madarassa drilled multiplication tables and Urdu alphabet into my head. Unfortunately, I neither remember the multiplication tables nor the alphabet. However, I still do my mental math in Urdu.
I soon got a school upgrade. I started going to a school at the other end of the village run by a family Brahmins, the Hindu priestly class. It was the only school in the village where they taught A, B,C, D….in English, and in that particular order. I soon became a star student. In me, the school acquired the bragging rights to having a son of a PhD from Japan on its rolls. I still remember jumping along village lanes in striped pajamas heading to the school, evading bullock carts and open drains. I mean it – all my pajamas were striped, and made from a coarse cloth called lat-tha. Those were fun and carefree days. I wish I could go back. The younger brother of the school's principal was my classmate. Somehow I acquired the habit of beating him up, despite the obvious consequences. I think he still avoids me!
The food we ordered from Snail Thai, a restaurant in Hyde Park, is here. I think I should eat because the stories from the Brahmin school are many, and the food has a tendency of getting cold quickly.
I dedicate this blog post to Nammo who continues to study for her final examinations at Booth, even as I find work in writing blog posts. I do not really see the point of working hard for a B when you can the same grade without working hard. Hopefully she gets an A for her work, and hopefully you like this post.
The long story is to be continued later…
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3 comments:
OK. Let me try again (summarizing here). Thanks for fixing the reply options!
So when you ask "Where did you get the courage to study so much?", you seem to arrive with the premise that it requires courage to study. Is that the right premise?
Post-graduate programs (PhD definitely, MBA too probably, though you would know better) are very different from high school education, and require independent thought/work and taking the initiative at a level often absent from "real world" jobs. Referring to a post-grad program as "studies" is a misnomer, since it brings to mind (for most people) hours of blind instruction delivered by unenthusiastic teachers plus answering useless questions with useless answers in endless tests/exams.
Definitely one loses out on good income while spending years in a post-grad program, but like your PhD friend said, the quality of work perhaps compensates for lack of money for some? And a case can be made that this is a proper state of affairs, since motivation becomes an entry barrier for post-grad education. When you talk about "courage", maybe you are referring to the lost income, which could also prevene one from doing many things that people find desirable, like buying a house, starting a family, etc?
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Anyway, I enjoyed your post, and look forward to more, and to having many heated debates. :d
with reference to Iqbal and the alleged Gujarat pogroms, there is a reason why his poetry is not taught anywhere outside fantical madrassas (like the one you attended), despite his literary excellence.
I am reminded of the following from his Shikwah:
"Kaat kar rakh diye kuffaar ke laskar kisne"
"Himmat-e-baajuu-e-muslim ne kiya kaam tera"
there are a lot more gems about Islamic military might he puts forth, which you will be well aware of.
So, you should keep your experience of alleged Gujarat pogroms in a historical perspective of Mohammad bin Kasim and others who followed in his footsteps over 1,000 years.
the way you dropped in a reference to sleeping in Infosys canteen somehow seems to deny a 1,000 years of Indian history and promote a very pro Islamic view of the same.
More Iqbal:
"Chino arab humaara,
Hindostan humaara,
Muslim hain hum watan hai,
saara jahaan humaara.
Tauheed ki imaanat seeno mein hai humaare,
aasan nahin mitaana saara jahaan humaara"
I hope you appreciate this, amybe asking you to post it would be too much!
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