The P-word

Placement
/ˈpleɪsmənt/
Noun
* The action of placing someone or something somewhere.
* The state of being placed or arranged.
* The finding of suitable accommodation or employment for applicants.
Synonyms: positioning, placing, arranging, deployment, location, disposition, disposal, emplacement, installation, install, stationing.

I’m sure that some stout Indian professor teaching ‘Professional English’ would have attached the last meaning to the word. And one of the synonyms is disposal? What ra dei!

It all would have started 2 or 3 years earlier. Having walked through ‘counseling sessions’ after consulting with experts, well-wishers, good Samaritans, confused contemporaries and a few more emotional people, one wouldn’t think beyond the college ‘seat’.

Two years down the line, this unassuming student meets people who talk about the ‘future’. What ra, have you joined the GATE/CAT/whatnot classes? I’m joining this weekend. My uncle’s friend’s brother’s son joined there and found it very useful. The student would try to evade the question and perhaps, talk about a new movie releasing. A month later, he would be sitting with his friend in the weekend- in the Prep classes. Everyone sees the whirlpool and jumps into it.

The seniors give a pep talk on placements for them- a fully blown statement of their tryst with future. They ask you to be prepared for ‘whatever it is’. The father is worried that his son/daughter is not consulting his seniors enough. He asks you to read the ‘Opportunities’ page of The Hindu. You wonder why! When he tells you, “Dei, my friend’s son got placed in an MNC today. They are paying him (indistinct chatter you refuse to hear)”¸ you give him a poker face. He asks you if the company will come to your college for ‘placements’. You show the same how do I know face, plug back your earphones and continue watching that TV series on your laptop.

By the time the final year starts and companies start showing up (or viceversa), the Xerox shopkeeper would have sold 1000 copies of R.S.Aggarwal’s Quantitative Aptitude. Once you buy and read it, you will realize that ‘Tenth grade Mathematics is also called as Quantitative Aptitude’. Nevertheless, you spend your precious free time wading through it.

On the eve of a company’s placement drive, we religiously immerse ourselves in the books and hope the lady luck offers us a bounty. One round after another, all we expect is our name to be at least the last name on the list. The moment it vanishes, the heart goes plays an ‘atom bomb drop’ manual and the ego takes a beating. When the first company departs, a small bunch gets jobs and the rest get back to the (whirl)pool of eligible candidates. Some lose hope after the first company departs. Some throw the towel after two months. And some simply go on and on. Irony plays violin and the HRs dance to the tune. Some look beyond the bad music. Some get absorbed in the frenzy. Before you know it, the next company comes playing the guitar.

To the loving parents, a job to their child is, at times, a matter of posterity. Eppo da company varadhu! keeps ringing from the rear door. Worst is when you actually get a job and they tell you, “Adutha vara company nalla pay pola irukkey! You could’ve waited for that!” (The next company seems to offer a better pay package! You could have waited for that). The concerned (read: Nosy, jobless) well-wishers add to the hysteria and amplify the parents further.

When we potti-kadai bajjis (yes, I am one of them) joined in the first year, we were all packed with bubble-wrappers, our self-esteems in proper shape, well oiled. Three years down the line, how do we fall like a house of cards? What has happened to all the uncut diamonds that dropped in and greeted each other on the first day? The answer is blowin' in the wind.

P.S. The graph is made up. Any correlation is absolutely true but entirely coincidental.
- Gopsay

Paradise

Saturday- last day of the week. You have an exam. You fumble and tumble over it and you are glad that it's over. Summer is here and a long, sultry day is here to stay.

Slowly, you push yourself to the nearest bus transit station and wait for a bus. An empty bus pulls over. You prefer to wait. 20 minutes later, you are still there. A bus not in sight. 'Dei, such an idiot you are!', you tell yourself.

Annoyed, you look at the sun that's beating down. It hurts your eyes and you quickly turn your head. And then you see her. You forget the self-loathing session you just finished. Just when sunlight seems to make you go haywire, you sense some hay under the sunshine.

The next ten minutes spent for a bus will be worth a wait, you think. You turn again. And a lady stands next to her, swooping down on the eyes surrounding her. 'Tchah!', you tell yourself and silently criticise the Indian society's textbook behaviour. Before you ridicule the society further, the empty bus also turns up. Your limbs move towards the bus while you want to stay back. You eventually take the bus.

And you turn back to look for an empty seat. None! But wait, there is the seat and there sits the girl. You decide to bequeath a seat and stand in the bus. You praise coincidence. Just then, an old man makes you sit next to him, blurring the coincidence away.

Thirty minutes go by when you want to turn back, see if she has left, see if she is still there. Oh, just to catch a glimpse. Now, the bus gets crowded and you feel like hitting yourself on the iron bar that is motionless near you.

Destination has almost arrived and the bus, still crowded, earns my wrath. The bus slows down and a passenger shouts at you for the foot massage I gave him. You smile and almost get down. You are almost pushed down. But you turn back and see if she still is there. Instead, you see her looking at you and smiling. Paradise!

#Story

The Letter Diplomacy

Gone are the days when people waited for letters from their dear and near. Technology has turned the people cynical and efficient in equally skewed proportions. While the generation gone by has a story to tell of how letters and posts made their life simple and valuable, the current generation is legitimately vocal of how e-mails, phones and chats have turned their lives upside down.

Letters of Gandhiji to Hitler, Jawaharlal Nehru to Indira Priyadarshini are cases in point of how people resorted to politically correct, carefully worded exchange of ideas and deep sense of perspective. Writing letters, replying to them were ubiquitous and a wonderful experience. People resorted to telegrams for formal and instant communication. The people at the telegraph office used to heave a sigh of relief in January and July because the „no marriage‟ season meant fewer telegrams wishing newly-wed couples! Many regretted not having another page in the Inland cover to write.

Now, with instant communication, one can sense a lack of thought and more fearfully, a lack of consistency. The expressive, explosive language has given way for curtness and brevity. And according to the NAEP [National Assessment of Educational Progress], more than 60 percent of middle and high school students scored below the "proficient" level in reading achievement. The results of speed and better access to literature (thanks to Google) have come at a heavier price- lack of depth and flair. The scenario is not very optimistic and the technology overkill might kill literacy.

Letter writing has become a lost art in the era of templates. The wait for wordy replies, appointment orders stretching weeks and in some cases, even years have been replaced by cold impatience and a lack of faith.

The only people who value the essence of writing letters are too old to write or their recipients are lost to time. Has this sorry culture permeated into literature- novels and poems? Time will tell. Has quick relief of communiqué served the eviction notice to sensibility and tranquility? The answer remains lost to the mundane thoughts that transcend on hot summer afternoons.

Having acknowledged that we are in a highway of no return, no one can know it better than the postmen- from a man who was thanked for cycling home good news to many lives, he is now a widely loathed man, a thankless job he wears with a bag of junk mails, discount coupons and credit card bills over his shoulders.


Edit 1: I found a post similar to my post here: http://laughing-listening-learning.blogspot.in/2011/07/finding-god-within-written-letters.html