Dedicated to all Ghousians, with love

First published in daily Greater Kashmir – 23 January 2010

4 Idiots

Of fuzzy dreams, degrees and DNA

By: Arjimand Hussain Talib

‘3 Idiots’ movie is a soul stirrer. It is nostalgic. The reason it seems so popular is that everyone could somehow relate himself or herself to its characters. It makes you laugh, and brings tears too. It has also a potential to shatter.

The movie instantly took me to our friend-circle’s life in the Ghousia Engineering College in Bangalore. It brought back the memories of the college days’ muddle of philosophy and maths. Muddle of the constant clash of parental aspirations and the basic DNA. Sometimes idealism and realism also clashed.

‘3 Idiots’ reflects a reality of our times – the constant struggle in our career life – caught, as ever, in the web of assumed aspirations and fuzzy dreams. The web of who parents dream their children to be. And how children think of and see themselves to be.

Ghousia Engineering College represented the same irony. It was also a place full of aspiring and reluctant engineers. And there were certain distinct types: Those who had come by choice. Those who had demanded to be there. Those who were simply kicked out (the-threat-to-family-and-world-peace-type). Some out of them were aborted-martyrs-in-the-making. And those who were made to take up engineering just because their parents wanted them to.

Ghousia College was a world apart. It was called the Third World of Bangalore - for its orthodoxy, stringent hostel life and discipline. Until we were there, it was simply out of bounds for the women species. It was not a co-ed college. There were not even women teachers. But the college’s ragging culture was depressing, and even terrorising.

Students from other colleges envied it for three reasons: One was its quality cricket team, second was its excellent academic standards and results, and third was its notorious civility (or a lack of it, rather). There was a dogma about this college: the day women enter there, it would be more civilised, and its students better cultured. We didn’t live in the college to see that. So it is hard to say how the future actually shaped.

Let me come back to the types of would-be engineers the college housed. And their fate. To begin with, let me talk of the room I lived in - 302. It had four guys – who would call themselves ARROW group – a rough acronym of their names. Room 302 had a label on its door, which read – ARROW Citadel.

The room housed one aspiring engineer, one kick-out type; one reluctant one and the fourth one was no-label type. The kick-out type was a real engineering genius out of the four. He never took more than four days before exams to read a whole subject. I mean ‘read.’ He hardly ever used paper for rough work or do calculations or practise solving problems. We could never be sure why the no-label type was there. The reluctant engineer spent most of his time in the library reading non-engineering stuff – news magazines and newspapers. Shockingly, even during exam days. He too, like the other three, did well in the exams.

But Room 302 had one thing in common – it had an inkling of what the peers saw as a ‘dangerously revolutionary’ spirit. It was always in the eye of attention. And even suspicion.

When the U.S. first attacked Iraq, it was from Room 302 that the plan of first-ever anti-US student demonstration in Karnataka state was made. American and Israeli flags to be burnt were designed there. Logistics were finalised there.

The room was also popular for running BBC Urdu news every night for public audience. That was the time when radio was the only credible source of information. Out of the four, the ‘no-label’ type never really took interest in all those activities, but he made it a point to be an actively passive participant in every such activity. For ‘political reasons’, rather.

Sitting under the open sky on a moon-lit night on the hostel terrace, the four of us would often talk about meeting after ten years and see where each one of us ended. What a co-incidence, it is exact ten years since we bade good bye to the college!

The discussions over aptitude, inclination, IQ and EQ are over. We live in a different age. All four of us are at four different places, doing very different four things. There is not even a single common thread in the work we do. The line between compulsions and aspirations has got blurred. But somehow – amazingly and unbelievably - all four of us ended up doing what we craved for. Thanks to Internet and Facebook, we all remain in touch.

Sadly, the engineering genius – who would spend not more than 3 days to study a complete subject – didn’t end up in a centre of excellence or fetch a six-figure salary. The no-label type, who didn’t really get good marks, today works in a developed country, and is reportedly doing well. The real aspiring engineer is a proper engineer, serving J&K government. He analyses load patterns at a big receiving station, and decides when to shed the load and when not to do it.

Times have changed, but yet not too much. We still live in times which see aspiration tags being put on children at their birth time. Tags which generally reflect parents’ own desires, biases and calculations.

So how do we end up what we live? By destiny? By chance? By choice? Or a mixture of these?

The fact is that there are no rules here. Nothing is in black and white. There are no recipes for success or failure. No recipes for fulfilling aspirations. In the very few constants of life there are huge number of variables – like destiny and time – which change the whole equations.

The possibilities of time, fate, spirituality and social conditioning in influencing our lives are infinite. The predictability quotient is generally an iota. We human beings and the conditions we live in are complex, too complex for constants to determine the final result.

And one fine day the meaninglessness quotient of the worldly pursuits and cravings laughs at us with vengeance. It laughs at our survival frenzy, our quest for excellence and perfection – all that ultimately doesn’t last. Time races. And aspirations wither.

And then comes the question of religion again, which makes sense of every absurdity around. To give life its ultimate meaning. Making us realise the futility of the timelessness of time.

Today, my wife and I often promise to each other that we would let our daughter be what she aspires to be. She is exactly one year old now.

But let me confess something honestly now. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I greatly enjoy seeing my daughter in certain frames – frames which suit my own vision, biases and some unfulfilled dreams. The idea of making her take a career of her choice looks risky and frightening. I haven’t said this to my wife so far. That is the dose of reality amidst the philosophy and mathematics of life. Life is, perhaps, just like that. We all are idiots!

Feedback at Arjimand@greaterkashmir.com