what's up with the Hipp?

From an account narrated in first person from the Hipposaur's snout, scripted by Little Blue Men who were (quite obviously) high on pencil shavings:

LBM: So, Hipp, what's up?

FGFH: Not much of an update from my side, since beyond work, there's little time to do anything else. As you know, the commute from my house to the office takes around 45-50 minutes, so that's around an hour and a half wasted every day. Since travelling on a bus is usually a boring affair, I clamber on to buses which have space for sitting, and then plug in my audio device (which looks like a squarish testicle). Being out of the television loop, I download what seems to me as 'new' music from the Internet, which is availed from the Computer device they let me use (bless them!).

Now the reason this reply comes after a delay is the fact that the keyboard repulses me these days, considering I spend a hefty chunk of my day before it. So apologies. In other news, I have been trying to revive the cooking habit, and whipped up a mean pork vindaloo last weekend.

Anyway, back to the bus trip: I might have told you that I had started reading all the accumulated stuff on my shelf. The latest discovery being a Canadian author called Robertson Davies. Do try and read up some of his works if you can, very dense texts filled with allusions to antiquity - as some one aptly descibed "a real pleasure to flip though".

Stern looking fella, is he not?

At the end of the proverbial day, I've slowly realised that I'm growing old - not a kindly thought, considering I'm gonna be 26 (in human terms, that is), which leaves the road to dreaded 30 in just another four odd years. Its not the imaginary post-modern dread of the number (as seen from many episodes of Friends, a very enjoyable past time, I must admit); but rather a disturbing realisation that I'm not as young as I wished I was - My father is around 63, while mom is close - I have responsibilities that I would have been only too happy to not bear. Though I would not be required to send money home regularly for the time being, I would be expected to create a bank of savings, investments and think of a 'future'. Added to that is the growing sense of the sheer worthlessness of academia in the real world of buses and sweat and chaos. I see these young kids out of college get into high paying jobs and it strikes me that whatever pretensions of knowledge I might have had during MA, be it theories, or Art or music - its worthless in a system driven entirely on the basis of career-related ambitions.

Post Graduation is so over rated.

Maybe its too late for realising what was pretty much evident, but it still strikes me - Why would the guy on street care about culture when his sole preoccupation is to feed himself and ensure his kids go to school. Don't get me wrong - the everyman I refer to is not only the typical struggling work assistant; he is the guy driving the new Honda, the guy beating up his wife in a slum and the old chap worried about his daughter's marriage. The average Indian gives a shit about the pursuit of humanities - the newspapers don't give a shit about Humanities, so long as you can string a sentence in English, and more importantly, get there in time and ask the right questions.

So are we airheads with no practical use in a social order driven on money and the survival instinct? What has academia to offer to better our lives? I mean, look at it this way - I stayed in a subsidised hostel room, which cost me 90 Rupees a month, including water and electricity - being funded out of grants that came out of taxpayer's pockets, as with any public University. What has that made us? Jobseekers in content writing jobs and newspapers? College teachers doing the same thing over and over again, teaching another batch of people about Blake and Shakespeare, but to what end?

I know we folks from the Liberal Arts like to think that the world has wronged us (have mercy!), since its so materially driven. But then again, think: what if the joke's on us? Considering how many people are perfectly happy being in a daily grind of work - party on weekends - work again routine, I seriously doubt any iota of intelligence I might have deluded myself into believing I might have possessed.

End of rant. As you were.

LBM: Thanks for the update, we are sure our readers will be greatly amused.

FGFH: Anytime


Sarit said...

Interesting... well, such is life, dear.

GreyVitriol said...

I guess sometimes the best we can do is to hold on to what little insanity we have left in a frighteningly sane world.

...Like your idiotic ink pen fetish.
Entirely silly in a world such as this. But thank goodness for such silliness.