Pedagogy...

Mr. M was a nice man who taught us Hindi and Marathi in school. His passion for teaching reflected in the way he taught, every sentence and every word somehow acquiring a new meaning attached to it. We made fun of some of his habits, including his cycling all the way to school from his home, but i am sure others too had as much respect for such simple habits as i did. He was one of the few teachers who avoided being a caricature, by avoiding being too pedagogical or too friendly. For people like me who hated learning Marathi, he was someone we aspired to impress by working hard.
He was also in charge of the prefects and the Scouts in the school. One of of my friends who was a prefect and almost flunked in Marathi one time was told 'Don't bring ME to shame by flunking next time.' Most of us remember him along with this salute he taught us, to be performed during all flag hoisting ceremonies. It was derisively called the 'prefect salute' and made much fun of, but it was something that made us feel a part of a bunch.

This is not an obituary. Mr. M still teaches and inspires a new generation of kids in my school and will for atleast a few more years.

But to my surprise (and it wasn't a pleasant one) i saw the 'prefect salute' on TV last week. It was performed by old men in khaki shorts and the news reel showed other old men talking about their 'gallant' acts in disemboweling pregnant women and emasculating young Muslim men. i couldn't help but wonder if that's where the salute came from. And it shames me that Mr. M is in some way associated with these monsters. It shames me that a salute that made me feel proud at one point of time is equated with such acts of horror. It shames me to see perfectly peaceful and ordinary men and women reduced to acts of depravity.

i try to remember if there was some sign of Mr. M being in cohorts with these guys. i've tried remembering every chapter i've learnt with him, if there was some subliminal message of hatred in them. i've second guessed every word, every sentence i can remember coming from him.

The inspirational man with the Hitler moustache who rode a bicycle to school has been forgotten. The Hitler moustache is all that remains.

Rewind...

The last couple of weeks have been in flashback. One because of a job interview that required me to make a portfolio in a couple of days, and a junk clearing session that somehow tempted me to look through everything i have written in the last 5 years.


Portfolios have this amazing tendency to make you hate yourself. All the projects i thought have gone well don't seem so good anymore. The ones that seem good, don't look good in their scans. The ones on the comp don't look good on an A3. There were some i tried formatting as fast as possible just because looking at bad drawings for longer than 15 minutes will cause my brain to self-destruct out of shame. (No, it hadn't happened already... look elsewhere for your wisecrack)


Sorting out the writing happened just as i was looking for a 2nd year humanities project. It's a good exercise reading what you wrote a few years ago, you can actually see the changes in every writing decision you made. i seem to have lost out the humour and gained a mean, sarcastic streak. It also seems to be taking itself very seriously (the result of blogging???). Some seem a lot more depressed than before.

i wonder how much of this is 'growth' or just simply the gradually increasing levels of comfort with blogging one seems to achieve after getting used to this medium. Somehow i don't feel the need to cloak my state of mind while writing anymore.
Wonder if this has passed onto design...