Blood & Ink

Image source: Google images Language is often taught to children in an unimaginative and inadequate ways throughout the classrooms in India and I believe that it one of the most striking issues that Indian Education System is facing today. From my practical experience in various private schools, govt. schools, tribal schools, I have observed that most of the children are not able to internalize and apply the basic concepts of Math and science. The focus of early language and literacy in these classrooms is only limited to the mechanical transfer of script knowledge to children- the endless presentation of aksharas, their combination to form words, phrases, sentences and finally passages. I have usually observed teachers practicing typically two kinds of strategies in the classroom:- > Asking children to copy write the words or aksharas or “answers” from the board > Or the teacher sometimes dictate the answers to the students. In such a scenario there’s hardly any room for...

So, I'm sitting here at my PC thinking that it's been a long time since I wrote something. And I still can't think of anything to write about. So, as all self-indulgent writers do, I write about something I know the most about - myself. Not the most interesting topic, I know. In my defence, the words self-indulgent were mentioned. I spent so much of my time with a certain set of ideas about love, life, the universe and Edward Cullen. And then, I grew up. Edward Cullen however, didn't. I grew up thinking that being an adult would mean unimaginable freedom. It would mean finally being cool, being awesome and surrounded by shiny, happy people. Of course, this would probably apply to everyone who reads this. But hey, I never said I was a special snowflake. Times as a child were spent eating Fried-rice in front of the TV (literally one foot away from the screen) and watching old TV serials. We played cricket in my Grandma's living room and Blind Man...

"It appears to be that a rod was inserted into her and it was pulled out with so much force that the act brought out her intestines along. That is probably the only thing that explains such severe damage to her intestines," he said. I was doing my studies when I read this. I had to rush to the bathroom to cry as reading it left me out of my breath and I felt as if I had no bones left that could hold me up. Through various points in the day, this detail got imprinted in my mind & I shall never be able to erase it from my memory hierarchy, Or un-imagine it. For some context, seven days ago, a 23-year-old para-medical student was gang-raped in New Delhi, India’s capital. She'd gone with her boyfriend out for a   movie on a leisurely Sunday evening in South Delhi (arguably, one of the most “posh” areas of New Delhi, and therefore the safest). A private bus with tinted windows stopped by.And, the unsuspecting duo boarded the bus. Over the next several hours, t...

“The fundamental argument for flexible exchange rates is that they allow countries autonomy with respect to their use of monetary, fiscal and other policy instruments, by automatically ensuring the prevention of external equilibrium.” This was something that they expected me to study for a long forgotten exam that came back to kick me in the shins. It was scheduled for Saturday morning. It left me wondering though, why did we stop loving simple sentences? What happened to small words strung together to convey just enough? Makes me conscious of what I’m typing out just now. It shouldn’t. This should come naturally. I miss when times were simpler. I act as if they’ll never come back. They can. Will they? *Aww, look at you trying to be all deep and shit*