Tag Archives: Jadavpur University

Jadavpur, Personal

Identity Crisis of an Alumnus

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STOP. For an instant, take in this information:

  1. When you search for “jadavpur university alumni” on Google, you get this.
  2. When you search for “alumni association of jadavpur university” on Google, you get this.
  3. When you search for “how do i become a member of jadavpur university alumni association” on Google, you get this.

If you have got the drift of my endeavour, I am trying to learn how to become a member of the Alumni Association of Jadavpur University. I will assume the following:

  1. Warts and all, alma mater is alma mater – it means “nourishing mother” in Latin, and mother, however lousy or great, is mother still.
  2. And when you leave your nourishing mother, you want to be in touch with your nourishing mother.
  3. Every institution should have some form of association for those that depart from its portals.
  4. It is a shame and a great loss if it does not.

As inquisitive students of JU, I remember the thousands of trips we must have made around the central ground (god knows what is it called; if you are god, you can email me with the name here). And invariably the thousands of times we must have wondered what is this board, saying ‘Alumni Association’, doing here. Does anything happen inside? Who comes in? Who goes out? For years and years we saw some ghastly concrete structure being made right in front of the Ashirbaad canteen, a structure that encroached on the yard in front of the popular joint. For years and years we were told that the new building shall have accommodation for the Alumni Association. If and when it comes up. I think some building did finally come up in that yard. I vaguely remember having seen some board put up in one corner (or was it some other building that I am mistaking for). I don’t know if the Alumni Association has any building of its own. But regardless of any physical infrastructure, if the Alumni Association has any presence, it is felt through its absence – winds rush in to fill the vacuum. Thus, many who leave from JU enquire about it. I remember many of my friends asked this question. I am presuming on their behalf that most, if not all, would like to become a member of any Alumni Association. That they would like to have some reunions every few years, meet up with old fellows, check out who has got the most beautiful wife or girlfriend, and what not. If and when they can afford, they would also like to make some contribution towards the nourishing mother, monetary or otherwise. If only someone told them how to go about that.

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If you check out the official website of the nourishing mother, you will find the following:

  1. There are five pages under Alumni section, three of which are dead links (they don’t lead anywhere, as no pages have not been built. The webmaster, very thoughtfully – or is it thoughtlessly? – has added a Magazine page, but alas! there is no magazine!).
  2. The Activities page is an essay in poverty, and jubiliates in the vacuum of unaccomplishment (my dictionary says no such word exists; well, I can certainly coin one).
  3. The Membership page seems to be from Shakespeare. It must have got mislaid when the Bard was composing the character of Shylock. I cannot help but reproduce it here:

“The Alumni Association by its very constitution survives on its members. If membership dries up, the Alumni can not remain functional. For the last few years we have noticed a decline in membership. Since the Association does not belong to a select few but to all past, present as well as future students, the functioning of the same becomes troublesome. We sincerely hope that things will improve or we as students of Jadavpur University would lose a body that should ideally be a part of our makeup.

If you wish you can donate to Jadavpur University.”

So much for Alumni Associations. But then grouping up is a natural instinct. Whether it is through fora like Orkut or Batchmates.com, people team up. Resourceful (in both senses of the word) people from US of A, who are invariably from the Engineering Faculty, have made their own tinpot arrangements to cater to their own little interest groups [Bring up your Google and check out for yourself – there are more websites on JU communities than you can imagine]. Thus, instead of a community of all ex-JUians, we have clans spread over the wide wide world and the other www. I have also come across scores of other fora, on Orkut, on Blogspot, many of them being manned or wommaned by my heriocal successors in the institution. A year and a quarter back I floated a suggestion through a fellow JUian who has his way with women and children that the present JUDE fellows can make a database of present and past members of the Department and then fill up data on a continuing basis, which could later be turned into an online and self-updating database. Last heard, NASA was also planning to go to Mars.

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Jadavpur, Personal, Poetry

Nightmarish encounter with Nosering

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Life has its funny side. It springs unlikely surprises, at the most unlikely moments. Funnier still is that sometimes you don’t feel the emotions you are expected to feel. Time was it, a few years back though, when I felt the sun setting and rising around a very beautiful girl- meaning she was all my universe. Time was when I knew what jealousy was (for the record, I have tried to read Nancy Friday’s celebrated treatise Jealousy, but unfortunately the clinical discourse made the topic even more nebulous instead of scattering the clouds)- and its various aspects. Thus I was jealous of her younger brother, I was jealous of her house peon(!), I was jealous of her parents, I was jealous of the world which shared her. Without commenting about whether I have shifted my universe from her backyard to elsewhere, let me say that (thankfully) I have got rid of this funny feeling of jealousy. And I testified to myself yesterday on this very account.

Now a new girl has joined my class this year. She is a very attractive and talented girl, and it would take me a few pages to catalogue her various accomplishments and talents. But then attractive girls are in the habit of setting certain psychological upheavals in the placid horizons of innocent guys (like me), and so too I found some part of my universe relocating itself around her Nosering. All my wish in this world was to find myself around her nose, or as I put it in Bengali :ami tomar nakchhabi hote chai (I want to be your nosering). In my misery, I even composed a poem:

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I want to be your nosering

There’s been much confusion
Over a proposal,
The red-red rose is old,
And I guess all of them are sold,
Archies and Hallmark are candy floss,
And great economic loss.
Amir and Ash chatted their way
In a Coke bar and found themselves in dismay.
Pastry is bad for cholesterol,
So mundane a cream roll….
What more remains?
Let me rack my brains…
O Poetry is so boring, and Keats is long dead…
Perhaps a present…some mattress, and a bed?
Or should I stand at Chowringhee and sing
“Sweetheart! I want to be your nosering!”
-28/8/2001, Calcutta-63

This was supposed for the wall magazine; however, editorial intervention prevented inclusion of this cute little piece beside her nice and difficult poems. As of now, this poem is not included in Poems section of my website. Weeks and months passed by without further annoyance to either quarter, and in the meantime I have been successful in relocating my universe to the erstwhile address (picking up all the bits and pieces that I had generously scattered in the different parts of the college like a Roman commander). And then a certain enquiry followed.

She enquired a mutual friend if he had given her phone number to me. She has been receiving crank calls (to be differentiated from blank calls) which has been a cause of annoyance to her excellence. I don’t know how girls can so presumptuous as to imagine me of such heroics- after all I am such a cute and innocent piece of dumb meat (ain’t I?). Now, without commenting anything about if it was me who annoyed, I was highly flattered by the personal interest she evidently took of me (reportedly she had used my name in the enquiry- doesn’t she know anything of subtlety? After all, have I ever taken her name?) But the incident to follow after that has been the real clincher- I mean, I am having real fun after so many months.

__________________________________________________________

Many, many months back I had heard of her boyfriend. Some people of my class had seen her with someone in the department (and just after that, that very day, she came and sat just beside me in the balcony, waiting for the class to end. What coincidence!). I found that pretty interesting. And yesterday I myself witnessed something.

Yesterday was the student’s seminar at our department. After the seminar I found her excellence mounting the same bus as me, a little after me. She was with a tall and fair Bengali guy (well, Bengalis have the most insipid faces, and you can tell them from a mile) who wore a yellow T-shirt. Wait a sec! Isn’t this the same guy whom I saw at the seminar? Well, did he come to attend the seminar, or to attend to someone else? Seems the latter. And what do I see next? Well, both of them are standing in the beginning. She gets a seat shortly, and she is sitting just opposite me (now if the same thing had been shown in a movie, you would have laughed at the preposterousness of the coincidence). She does not see me in the beginning. Suddenly her ‘item’ goes to the door enquiring something to the conductor (that’s ticket collector). Now nothing separates us- and now she sees me. Unfortunately I cannot tell you anything about her expression, engrossed as I was looking at Mr. Yellow T-shirt and (as they say) sizing him up, with a face expressing amusement and even suppressed laughter (the expression which she must have seen). T-shirt comes back and stands like a bodyguard- and literally so. I take it that it was her boyfriend. If yes, then I have never seen such a morbid couple. Only now and then she talked, and there was no spirit or animation. It was as if I was witnessing a sixty something couple. Soon the funeral ceremony ended, and in reversal of chivalric roles, the damsel follows the knight. It takes an age to get down the three steps of the bus, and a certain reluctance of not turning back to give a parting look (or even enquiring). And the last rites are performed.

Such scenarios are only fantasized, and hardly ever comes in real life. It came, I saw and nothing was conquered or ravished. I should have expected the hunk (well, whatever, he was not a hunk) to come looking for me, after getting enlightenment from his damsel as to their company. Poor show, Mr. Yellow T-shirt remained a gentleman, and so could not be a hero. Or perhaps the heroine abstained from providing enlightenment (which would be injustice to the poor soul, Mr. T-shirt). Whatever, what could have been a real spectacle, turned out to be a Becket play. Absurd.

But this absurdity infuses spirit.

Vladimir: Well? Shall we go?
Estragon: Yes, let’s go.
They do not move.
Waiting for Godot

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Jadavpur, Kolkata, Personal

Cricket season comes to an end

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Cricket Ball India is a cricket crazed country. And we few students of the English Department are a cricket grazed group. No one in the whole university played (this year) as much as we did. Ever since September 2001, this game has provided us constant entertaining and satisfying engagement. And alas, the season comes to an end now. Yet, even as the game leaves from our midst, the promise of another glorious season hangs before us- just some more months.

Yes, we really had a very nice time this winter. We got our own cricket gear (a bat, three stumps and bails), and we bought more than half a dozen balls. On many days we played for more than four-five hours. Every afternoon was spent in regrouping, and then off we went to the ground. We played many matches. We lost two. The most important match with the Economics Department went for a tie, and that hurt us most- we had lost in our previous encounter the year last. We will carry this regret that we could not beat them. But then again, optimism pays. There’s a next time. Always.

As far as I was concerned, cricket certainly was the chief attraction (apart from a certain poetess in my class). The teachers who never saw us in their classes inevitably saw us shadow playing with the bat in the balconies. The whole department would know us by our gear. So much so that one of our mates immortalized us by writing about the exploits of the cricket team in a wall magazine. Long live cricket, and love live our robust endeavour to add some sparkle to the otherwise dull academic life of the department.

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The location of our cricket ground

I would take this opportunity to say thanks to my buddies by naming them. Thank you.

Debsena Banerjee
Nikhilesh
Amaru Mandal
Avijit Chakraborty
Ajay Singh Click here for Ajay Singh: A tribute, an article on Ajay.

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Jadavpur, Kolkata, Personal

Winning the gold

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BA15399 I have consistently maintained that life, especially academic life, is getting the tougher as I tread my way forward in life. I passed my Secondary as a topper from a school which had about 350 students, and my batchmates numbered a mere 26. Of course, such a feat was no feat at all. Then I was off to St. Xavier’s, one of the premier colleges of the city, for my Higher Secondary. Toppers from all schools and students better than me by far crowded around me. While the real reason of my miserable performance in the next exam lay somewhere else, it cannot be boasted that I could have topped even if I had tried. And then to Jadavpur University. At each rung better and better students were selected, so that the competition became not just tough, but at times miserable and hopeless (for me, of course). Knowing my own limitations the most I could try for was a good show.

However, this was only academics. Needless to say, in the existing job scenario in India, academics is the one salvation open to an aspirant. Sports, unless you make it big in Cricket (and which is very difficult, given that only eleven players are chosen out of a billion!) is a big no. Yet it gives an obvious satisfaction if one did well in sports and games. For all the cricket season my (almost) sole reason for going to college was cricket. Now that the cricket season is over I am considering switching over to some other game- say badminton. Ever since I can remember, I have liked sports and did well in all of them. Although I have never had technical training in any except badminton (that too for just a month), I caught on to a game very early and very well. And I am sure professional life would not see an exile from sports. In this mad race of getting good marks (the still madder race of getting a job lies a bit ahead) where the student’s life traverses from one class to another, from one library to another, the open ground works to open my mind, to clear my conceptions and priorities, and give confidence.

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I had heard of a certain Sports Day being organised annually in our University. Unfortunately none of us (my classmates) had seen it for ourselves, until this year, our fourth at the University. Strolling casually on that clear Monday (25 February 2002) I, Ajay and Amaru (two of my friends and classmates) registered our names for the shot-put throw event. We desperately wanted to run the sprints, but we did not have shorts or spike shoes, and hence had to settle only for the iron ball. I remembered Class X when I had won the shot-put gold for my House. That was six years ago. Could I repeat it again? But then that was in a small school where I was a reasonably strong guy. Now I was in an University where there were many stronger and bigger guys than me. Besides I did not have any training in the event, and relied on just brute force. We took a ball and went to the allotted space for the event and started throwing. I did almost as good as Ajay, which was creditworthy, given that he is a much stronger person. Even though I could not be confident of coming anywhere near the top, I fantasized that I had won the event.  And then the actual event came (uptil now we had been practicing by ourselves). My first two throws were disqualified as I had crossed the line after my throw, the second time most foolishly. But I told myself that I had a third chance and I could win in just one good throw. And like a dream come true, I did.

I did not go to check how far I had thrown. As soon as the 16 pound (that’s my guess) iron ball dropped,  the people around me proclaimed I had won. I just couldn’t believe myself. I had repeated what I had done six years back. That time too all were amazed at how far I had thrown the ball. This time too no one expected me to do any wonders. I was the true black horse. Later the distance was measured and I had thrown a good 8.74 metres (almost 29 feet). It was sweet. I told myself that if I could not win the gold in academics, I could do it in something else. The next evening I got my gold.

As I saw the people running the sprints, doing the high and long jumps, I was very miserable. I knew that if I had participated I would have won some medals- certainly in the hundred metres sprint. But unfortunately we did not have shorts, and some of the events passes by without our knowledge. We consoled ourselves that there’s one more year for us. We vowed that next year most of the medals should go the English Department. And I personally promised myself that I will win the Best Sportsman award for myself. Till next year….

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Jadavpur

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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