The essence of freedom

A STOCK question I am usually asked at the end of every interview is "Have you a message for the youth of today?" I get very irritated and reply: "Don’t you have anything original to ask? Who am I to give messages to the youth?" Nevertheless when I was invited to preside over a prize-giving function of Delhi Public School, Ranipur (near Hardwar), and asked by Principal Rajpal Bhasin to address the students, I made notes about what I would say. Mercifully, I did not have to make a speech. It was a very warm, sultry morning. A heavy shower had turned the lawn, on which the 2000 boys and girls were meant to sit, into a swamp. They had been standing on their feet for over half an hour when the proceedings began. Prayers, patriotic songs, a dance recital and the Headmaster’s report took another hour. Two boys collapsed in the heat and had to be carried away. Navin Jaggi, Advocate, Supreme Court, and I were the two remaining speakers. I asked to be excused as it would be too much for students to keep standing for another half an hour in the torrid heat. Everyone was relieved. So was I, as I realised that what I was going to say would almost certainly not have gone down well with the teachers and parents of the children. It also would have made very little sense to boys and girls in the primary classes. It was largely addressed to students about to finish school. What I had intended to speak about was the essence of freedom — the freedom to decide your own future, the freedom to make mistakes.

Do not allow your father to decide what you want to do in life. He may want you to become an engineer, a doctor, a lawyer, an entrepreneur — or whatever. You may not want to become any of these. Tell him firmly: "I have to live my own life and I will do it in my own way. If I make mistakes, I will only blame myself and not you". Arthur Koestler, the eminent novelist and thinker, wrote in his book The Lotus and the Robot that India is not a democracy but a "Bapucracy" because men do not learn to make up their minds till their Bapus (fathers) are dead. There is a lot of truth in what he wrote. Choose a career which gives you a sense of fulfilment and enough money to provide a comfortable living but gives you a sense of achievement. I know scores of bright young students who were bullied by their fathers to sit for Civil Service Examinations. They got into the administrative, the foreign, revenue or the police services. They got good salaries, good-living conditions and a lot of power. However, I do not know one who was happy in his job, and when retired, did not admit that he felt he had wasted his life.

As important as choosing a career, is choosing the life partner. Here mothers play the dominant role. As soon as their sons and daughters come of marriageable age, they start scouting for partners for their grown-up children. More than 90 per cent of Indian marriages are arranged by parents through negotiations with other parents, through matrmonial columns of newspapers, matrimonial agencies or friends.

The so-called love marriages are very rare. What is most depressing is to hear highly educated and otherwise literate young men and women say: "I’ll marry anyone my parents think is suitable for me." Damn it, it is you and not your parents who have to live with the person you marry. What kind of freedom is it when you don’t exercise your right to choose your life partner? You may go wrong in your choice; so can your parents. But at least you can say I made a mistake and not blame your parents for foisting a partner on you whom you found impossible to live with.

A third freedom that our new generation must learn to exercise is freedom from caste, language and religious affiliations. This is very important when you are of an age to exercise your right to vote. Don’t let candidates persuade you that you should vote for them or their party because other members of your community are doing so. Decide for yourself who is the best candidate, with the cleanest record; do not vote as a Hindu,Muslim, Christian or a Sikh. Vote as an Indian, for someone you think will serve India best.

I am sure my speech would have offended a lot of oldies; I hope young people who read this will ponder over it.

Of love & longing

Love and desire are not the monopoly of the young and the beautiful. On the contrary it is the ageing and the ugly who, lacking self-confidence, suffer more because they see little prospect of anyone responding to them. This comes out in stark clarity when men and women spell out their loveless existence in newspaper columns on St. Valentine’s Day. Hitherto literary journals did not accept ads from would-be lovers. Now they do. Both The London Review of Books and The New York Review of Books carry ads seeking would-be acceptors. They also reveal that while the English grovel in self-denigration, the Americans try to promote themselves. My friend Amir Tuteja of Washington D.C. has sent me clippings of ads from these magazines read by the literati of the two countires. Here are a few samples:

London Reveiw of Books: Bald, short, fat and ugly male, 53, seeks shortsighted woman with tremendous sexual appetite.(A man is allowed to dream, isn’t he?)

New York Review of Books: Loving, caring, devoted, highly successful woman, late 50’s, seeks brilliant, athletic, loving man for committed relationship.

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London Review: Shy, ugly man fond of extended periods of self-pity, middle-aged, flatulent and over-weight, seeks the impossible.

New York Review: Petite, pretty, blond professional seeks relationship built around laughter, love and a view that life should continue to be an adventure.

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London Review: Illiterate old bastard with not a single book in sight seeks someone to read poetry and wash away the interminable cynicism that comes with reading this magazine. Must harbour profound hatred of Tuscany.

New York Review: Vivacious bookworm in Orange County, Calif, seeks literate, brilliant man, 45+, who knows "Magic Mountain" is not just a roller-coaster park. We’re aliens in this cultural desert, seeking soulmates who enjoy Sunday in bed reading NYT and more physical pleasures.

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London Review: Why, oh why, oh why?... 47-year-old male serving life sentence in Scottish academia. Respondents must know absolutely nothing about Byron or Shelley and loathe the thought of reading Wordsworth and Keats. Blake is a concessionary "may be" only.

New York Review: Attractive, accomplished psychologist, charming, sweet, very intelligent, fun-loving, worldly, bilingual DJF (divorced Jewish female), very youthful mid-50’s, petite, pretty, trim, blonde, green eyes, fit, adventurous, warm, loyal, grown children, free. Looking to share adventures, travel, the arts, love of books, music, the ocean, the mountains. I like irreverent, independent thinkers who care about the world and have a sense of justice.

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London Review: Heaney, Walcott, Larkin, Blake. Poet of no repute (male, happy side of 40) seeks female companion for midnight readings.

New York Review: Very attractive therapist, Manhattan, 60, shapely, elegant feminine, Smith alumna, seeks accomplished, refined, highly intelligent single man for cultural activities, stimulating conversation humour, romance. Details essential. Photo appreciated.

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London Review: A hopeful young student of Freud is looking for fun unalloyed/She’s fresh, free and flirty/And loves to talk dirty/About dreams she’s especially enjoyed.

New York Review: I want to have a child. For both good reasons and bad, I’ve never formed a long-term relationship with a woman. Nevertheless I think I’d make a loving, caring, supportive father. However, the baby-to-be needs a mother.Any suggestions?

Backside wisdom

S. Chowdhary, Principal of DAV College, Pehowa, has been collecting words of wisdom written behind trucks and buses plying in Haryana. Here are a few samples:

Dil kay armaan aansooon mein beh gaye
Woh utar kar chal diye, hum gear badaltey reh gaye
(All my desires were washed away in tears
She got off and went away, while I kept changing gears.)

Chheti chheti aaeen sajana
Ketey dudh da dahen na ban jaye
(My beloved return as fast as you can
Lest milk turns sour and becomes curd.)