Sanskriti 2002- witnessing a spectacle

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The college fest (or University, or faculty fest) that is held at Jadavpur University is, perhaps, unlike any other. Unfortunately one cannot use words of high praise while describing this fest, which is rather unique for some unfortunate reasons. While in other college fests the student attendance increase, here at JU, it decreases. Reasons could be many, and my guesses would include:

  1. In Jadavpur University at least three fests are organised by the three faculties in the University – all of them called Sanskriti, by a peculiar Bengali chauvinism. Thus within the short span of about one month during the winter fest season we have three Sanskritis organised by the Engineering Faculty, the Science Faculty and the Arts Faculty. Needless to say that besieged by such profusion of festivals, the student loses interest and attachment in such events.
  2. The sense of belonging towards an institution that is evident in other places is miserably missing in this university.
  3. The events are held in such lacklustre fashion, and feeds upon such monotony of tradition and dull imagination, that the student cannot be held culprit if the events deny any temptation.
  4. Except for the Engineering Sanskriti, which receives rather heavy patronage from the corporate world, the events lack sponsorship and are thus dull events. The onus of attracting sponsorship lies, however, with the organisers.
  5. The event is held over a three-four day period. The interest is thus dissipated.
  6. This year the Sanskriti (organised by the Arts Faculty) has been staged at the Open Air Theatre (OAT) which is situated at the fag end of the campus. It loses out on patronage from the Engineering students who have their classrooms at the other end of the campus.
  7. In general the JU students are very unexcitable.

It wasn’t surprising, therefore, that we found so little reason to disturb our daily routine at college, and introduce such a shoddy and lacklustre event as Sanskriti into our consciousness. However, I found reason enough to go the the OAT. This is the first time in my stay at the University that the fest had been organised at this spot, and naturally there was curiosity as to how it looks. But the real tempter was the Choreography competition. For as long as I have witnessed Sanskriti, I have always felt that the most popular event is the Choreography competition. One gets to see all the beautiful and talented girls of the university dancing on the stage, and if one remembers that all girls worth watching are in the Arts Faculty, then it becomes crystal clear why the event goes house full.

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For the last three years (if my memory does not deceive me) three girls from our class have been winning the event. Their dance had attained a very predictable feature, and one could guess extra-meritorial considerations coming into play- all the girls were popular, extremely vivacious, and beautiful. This year as well three girls came on the dance floor- the same winning combination, with one player being replaced. The introduction saw the incantation of an incomprehensible mantra which nobody could make a sense of (keep in mind, they were from the English Department), a feature which had been used the previous year as well. And then the surprise package- the very popular dance number Jiya Jale from the film Dil Se was played in Tamil, instead of in Hindi- God knows why! It would be inappropriate for me to comment anything upon the quality of the dance, but it was rather interesting for reason which cannot be specified here. And that one of them danced a lot better than the other two was more than perceptible.

Honestly, the most enjoyable number was given by a group of seven guys from the Economics department. The best number was given by a male female duo who danced with the Bengali song ‘Kono ek gayer bodhu’. But, as far as I am concerned, the most interesting number was given by the girls from our class. True, one of them stumbled at the fag end; true, they could not repeat the previous three years when they won the event, but they did well to step upon the stage. Perhaps participation is more important than winning, and more so when you don’t have to prove anything, when you have already proved your credentials.

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My convocation at Jadavpur University

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convocation When I was not even ten years old my favourite song was ‘Papa kehte hain’ from the film Qayamat se Qayamat tak. In this film which created waves among the youth, this particular song was favourite with many, putting into words the aspirations and dreams, as well as the apprehensions of the youth at the threshold of adulthood and responsibility. Aamir Khan, in his first film, sings the song on the occasion of his graduation party. While it would be so much worthwhile to quote not only the lyrics of the song, but also the preface which always accompanies the song, let me do without it, hoping only that my Indian friends would remember the words. In the next twelve years the world changed much, not only for me, but for everyone else. Thus in 2001, in Dil chahta hai the same Aamir Khan sings in another graduation party – ‘Hum hai naye, andaaz kyon ho purana?’. The total change of lyrics and the vocabulary might symbolise the changed perception, the changed mentality, the changed attitude, the increasing optimism and recklessness, or whatever. And believe me, reams have been written on these two contrasting phenomena. My own graduation ceremony, [excuse me, there was no party!] might draw references from the above quoted contexts.

I always thought that graduation ought to be a milestone in one’s [at least academic] career. It is, I still believe. While there was never any doubt that I would reach this stage, perhaps go even further, I had always expected the reaching of this milestone to be accompanied with some symbolic celebration. The graduation years passed by rather too quickly. The first day at college remains fresh still in our minds. College remains an important place in our lives. The degree would mean so much more in concrete terms, given the present employment scenario in this country. Why is it then that when that very graduation ceremony comes [and most agree that they are doing the present course, or did the last course, only for the degree] they are so callous about it? The day before the ceremony I called a few girls with an enquiry, and from them I came to know that none of them were anywhere near excited about the coming day, none were interested in bringing their parents, and in fact some were not interested in coming altogether! The recurring penchant was ‘What the hell is convocation? We’ve already got our marksheets, and we will get our degrees later on, anyway.’ And true to this early promise, many did not come. ‘Hum hai naye, andaaz kyon ho purana?’

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The day there began early. The long queue for convocation robe [sorry, no caps] of colour saffron which made us seem all of the BJP. The slow arrival of classmates. Then the queue again for the graduation pictures. [Of course many of us had got our own cameras, we were not allowed to take snaps on stage- where we would be given our degrees.] The roaming around the university with friends while in the long wait for our scrolls. The getting together of some mates on the steps of the Open Theatre where the ceremony was held. And at long last the queue for getting the degree. At this point it would be so much apt to comment on an aspect of Department and University life which was so much evident not only prior to the ceremony, but also after it [namely, the lack of bonding among classmates, and the dispersing attitude of clustering among small groups], but that calls for a separate article. Plainly, I was very disappointed that even on this very special day we could not find buddies to take snaps with. Some of us were so much desirous of taking snaps in our Department and classes where we spent the last three years, but unfortunately, we found so few of our classmates. As the ceremony ended, all departed. There was no get-together, no party. And I recalled all those graduation parties in films.

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Ajay Singh: A Tribute

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BA15399This article was specially written by Nikhilesh for Recurring Decimal, the JU English departmental wall magazine. Nikhilesh was the editor of Recurring Decimal. Copyright, presumably, belongs to Nikhilesh.

Ranjitsingh ji, Duleepsinhji, Ajay Singhji … how easy it would be to believe I was writing on another cricketer in that same illustrious line. But Ajay Singh, a student of our department between 1999-2001, is in no way connected to the great Ranji. Although, watching him bat in a cricket match you will find it hard to believe he does not have some royal blood flowing through his veins.
He is arguably the King of cambis cricket (cambis>canvas; cricket played with canvas balls). He has all the shots in the book and some beyond it Рhis favourite being the one that he mows over midwicket and into the Blue Earth workshop. The fastest bowlers in the university are scared to death of that shot. More disheartening for the bowler is the confidence with which he bats when his teammates are struggling to put bat to ball. I can give you instances; he scored 85 and 80 in two matches against the Economics department when the next highest score was under twenty on both occasions. He is not infallible though, as the zero in the last match of last season signifies. But that, as the clich̩ goes, endears him more to his supporters, of whom there are many in our department and understandably very few outside it. Contrary to popular belief it is difficult to think well of someone who has just smashed you all over the park.

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I must choose to remain silent about his physical attributes because I will never be able to describe them with any degree of accuracy: he always seems to me so much bigger and taller and fitter than any other person on the field. And all my lasting memories of him are on the cricket fields where he is a true giant in the Land of the Lilliputs. But I can talk of his mental fortitude that shows through again and again.
‘Ajay’ – the word means ‘unconquerable’. And Ajay lives up to his name. He never lost a game in his mind. In any game of cricket, even when his teammates give up the ghost and waft at the ball like blind men or proceed to bowl longhops in a bid to get it over with quickly, he remains calm and calculating. I remember a match in which the opposition required eight runs with one over remaining. The bowler for the English department was young and awfully nervous. He had six runs taken off his first three deliveries. While every other fielder was busy expressing their doubts over the legitimacy of the bowler’s birth, a quiet voice came over from mid-off, “Arrey yaar, bowl a fuller length!” The bowler followed the advice and the match was tied. I remember it was Ajay fielding at mid-off. Oh! I remember it all so well. I was the bowler that almost lost the match for my team.
The other aspect of his mental make up is his commitment to the team’s cause. After he discontinued his studies at J.U. there were widespread concerns within the team that Ajay had played his last innings for the English department. Yet he proved them wrong and has never failed to turn up whenever he was asked to. Our departmental team is yet to face the world without the big man on their side.
Take a bow Ajay. You deserve all the applause you get.

See also:

Cricket Season comes to an end

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