Leaving college

If you have ever experienced the numbness of bottling up an overwhelming feeling, you will know what I am talking about. I knew it would hit me hard, and hence I got done with it as swiftly as I could. As I picked up my luggage and made my way from my room in Mukarji East to the small gate behind the Principal's house - a path that we would frequently use while going to grab a bit at the South Indian Cafe - the weight of the moment was overpowering me; but I promised myself not to look back, not to feel weak and never, perhaps, to say that I want to undo that moment.

We were one of the last to leave college that summer, and had said several goodbyes, and often shed a few tears. The moment of our own separation, hence, was pushed into the future. There was, thus, nobody to bid us a goodbye, except for the friendly college dogs. I was probably happier that ways; when I was leaving, the place felt dead, as if it had nothing to give to me. That sense of finality, of completing, was something that made the moment more tolerable.

Deepika Padukone says in Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani that memories are like a pack of sweets - when you open it, you can't have just one. That truly encapsulates the experience I had the previous night, while clearing my residence room. Gifts that had gathered dust in one corner of my room, objects that had a strong naphthalene stench from years of storage in the trunk and kind words that my friends had written for me - they all came back to hit me really strongly. I was moved enough to make one final dash, to go to South Delhi to meet a friend I had had a fallout with. It was the most impulsive decision of my life.

Next day, after watching a movie with my friends, I was all ready to leave. The packing had been done the last night, the clearances obtained and the memories neatly tucked in a cherished corner of my brain. I went to the room earlier occupied by my first year roommate, looked into the empty room and closed my eyes. The cycle of college - freshers coming in, graduates passing out - would go on even after we were gone. It was much like the cycle of birth and death, and that day I got a glimpse of how it would feel to die. It is in these moments of bereavement that one seeks solace, and like Kate Winslet said in Titanic, I promised to never let go - of my friends, these memories and learning.

Then, with the help of Gaurav, I picked up my luggage and went to the waiting taxi. I promised to never look back, never miss college. Because I knew that I had hidden the pain of separation somewhere, and if and when I'll open that part of my heart, there will be no end. I hold on to that moment of time very dearly. Someday in the distant future, in a tranquil moment with my friends (now all old men and women), I will open that capsule, and be overwhelmed. Till then, the show of my life must go on.

P.s. A lot of other things happened that day, of course. I've mentioned only the things I would like to remember when I read this post a decade down the line.

Over the past few weeks, as my knowledge of the deprivation of India's citizens has grown, my faith and belief in education in higher economics has declined. A senior once told me that at a time when the world is growing disillusioned with the 'unrealness' of economics, we as a discipline continue to focus on mathematics and statistics as a major, major component of what we do - and hence drive further into 'unreal' territory. For example, if I were a policy maker, would it help me to be spend days in my armchair and be 100% accurate about my answer, or put two and two together, and provide a broadly correct answer. In consulting, we call it the '80-20' answer - as long as I have discovered 80% of the answer (and arguably the more important components), is it worthwhile to spend effort looking for the other 20%?

My view of the economy has turned more sharply into a 'production and distribution' mechanism. By production, I refer to goods and services that augment human happiness or welfare. I use distribution in a very generic sense. For the economists who seek to change our country, the final agents who act upon our recommendations will be people who are not at all acquainted with economics. I wonder what will be more likely to move them to action - to say that my regression has been corrected for X,Y and Z errors; or to weave the insights together into a compelling story of 'so-what's'.

What has helped me in the past few days is some very elementary notion of how people behave, especially their social behaviour. Concepts such as externalities, public goods, asymmetric information etc have been the concepts I can most often refer to, when reading about India's social issues. To draw insights from the heap of data before me, I have not yet found reason to look at advanced statistics or mathematics. It is logic, and some basic idea of correlations that have been most helpful. For everything else, I can refer to the published knowledge of people who are far more erudite than I can hope to be.

There is a broader theme I would want to answer at some point, but I'll provide a flavour of that here. I find our collective distaste of the 'corporate sector' very jarring. We often paint it as a selfish, ruthless and inhumane world. But here I have learnt skills that my education (in economics, or otherwise) would have never taught me. Here I have learnt the basic idea of economics, to economise! It isn't always necessary for me to kill myself in the relentless pursuit of perfection, to engage in debates that will change neither my life, nor anyone else's; it is here that I have learnt most to value others' time, and my own; it is here that I have learnt to be respectful towards contributions that people in other fields are making - for example, by the simple method of calling them 'experts' (thus acknowledging our own lack of expertise). It is here that I have learnt to come out of the ivory tower, and have learnt humility. When among economists, I am as proud of my training in consulting, as I am about my training in economics among consultants.

The final set of questions I have to answer are - how can I ever hope to be a good economist if I'm not there on the ground (by 'on the ground', I do not mean 'rural surveys' or 'visits'. I mean being part of the people who are generating value in the economy)? how can I hope to change the world if I am cut off from it? How can I hope to lead change if I am distant? How can I change people's lives if I am more into numbers and statistics than into people?

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Disclaimer: This article is written in the spirit of questioning. Since I have not received postgraduate education in economics, I am ill-equipped to comment on its utility. One day, I hope to pursue higher education in economics - however, I do not want to go into it with even the slightest notion that economics is the saving grace of humanity. Only then, I believe, will my education withstand challenges.

Shouting at my hollowness

Sometimes, I read what people have written about me on various social media fora, and I have an urge to write back - either to clarify or to deny, perhaps even to retaliate. This is the amygdala hijack that psychologists talk about. Since somewhere, my emotional core is threatened, I will tend to react immediately, without much thought.

But then I hold myself back. I consult a few friends who are more level-headed. They tell me to hold back, to not write, to not engage in public vilification of others. To damage someone's self esteem is one of the most detrimental things that you can do to them, and though I'm sure I've done it several times, but it is neither correct not encouraged. True love isn't about going on writing thesis on what true love is; it isn't about trying to feel loved by enabling others to act in a particular way. We're humans, we have our pitfalls - we might never know what true love is. All we can do is to be kind, because everyone here is fighting a great battle.

I'm not immune to public opinion - I keep on reading what was written about me. It is an experiment, a Gandhi-esque experiment. To hold back, to not respond; to keep loving, praying and hoping. It is an experiment to not shout back at my own hollowness; to not blame others for my miseries. Nobody can control me, or hurt me, unless I let them; and I hope I'll never blame anybody for hurting me.

I should do whatever it takes for me to be happy; because if I'm not happy, I can't make people around me happy. I would love to be in a world where we are all inter-connected capsules of happiness. I will not shout at my hollowness; but move on, make new bonds, live new lives. Because every new person is going to teach me something, and as the eternal traveler, I must learn.

The Happiest Moments of My Life

Here are the happiest moments of my life that I can recall right now. Of course, I've been far happier over an extended period of time, such as the time spent on the Andrews Lawns with my friends in the first year of College, or the numerous trips that I went for. But here are those moments that are forever etched in my mind:

1. Columban Open Quiz, 2008:
   On the face of it, Kritika and I didn't achieve much at the Columban Open Quiz. We came 3rd in our qualifying round, and were then eliminated in the quarterfinals. However, to put it in perspective, one year back, in Shubham's team, I probably knew just 1/30 of the answers (and we didn't qualify for the quarters). I wanted to prove to myself that I could do well at quizzing. I had absolutely no background in quizzing, and found it more intimidating than exhilarating. Over the next one year, I embarked on a journey with Kritika where we saw each other grow as quizzers. The moment when our name was announced was both unbelievable, and the happiest moment of my life.Then when we did well at the Columban, I remember going back to my room and feeling empty - as if I'd been relieved of a big burden. I left quizzing soon after that, but it gave me confidence of several things - (1) I, or anybody else, is not mediocre; we can survive among the big boys if we want to (2) to be happy in what you get, and not be sad for what you didn't (3) to make the journey with someone is far more pleasant than to make it alone. Kritika is still among my best friends; and to think that we started as merely quizzing partners (and moreover, we both have nothing to do with quizzing anymore).
   
   
2. Manchit's House, 2010:
   I suppose I've given as many surprises to my friends as they've given to me. Yet, the one time when Aashik and I went all the way to Manchit's house in Meerut to meet him encapsulates the joy of giving surprises. Manchit had just fractured his foot and was recovering in Meerut. It was holi, and Aashik and I decided to go meet him, without telling him in advance, of course. It was also the day before Holi, so we were slightly scared. Pranati was our partner-in-crime, picking us up from the bus stop, and then taking us to her home (because, on the way, we saw Manchit leaving for the doctor). Then the wait for Manchit to return, then the wait for Pranati's dad to return; and finally landing up at Manchit's place unannounced. What that experience taught me was to not think too much; just going ahead and doing what the heart feels like.
   
   
3. Europe, 2013:
   To be honest, most of you would find my Eurotrip quite drab; it was a touristy trip that neither I, nor people of my age, would've found particularly exciting. But while waiting for boarding at the Rome airport, I felt a sense of achievement unlike anything I'd felt before. Here I was, living a dream that I had never imagined would come true. Secondly, I did it all on my money. My brother once told me how empowering money felt, and this was the first time that I understood what he meant. Yesterday, while seeing Paris in Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani, I reminisced of how being there was so unreal. To stand in the Louvre's courtyard waiting for Yash, to climb the narrow lanes of Amalfi in Italy and taste the original pizza, to search for an artist in Piazza Navona, Rome, who could make a sketch for Manchit, to compete with Japanese women to buy a spray paint for Gaurav, to walk along the streets of Amsterdam aimlessly - it all feels so unreal now. It felt like a sweet reward for all the sacrifices I'd made on the way; as Amrish Puri in DDLJ would have said 'Ja, jee le apni zindagi.'

It's been two years now - two years of resettlement, of growth, of being at the same place again, and yet fighting back every time. Two years of coming to terms with what had happened. It treated me severely, and yet it is the seriousness with which I took and the importance and aura I built around it that was my ultimate undoing. It's been two years since I came out of depression, perhaps only partially so; and I continue to lead a relatively calmer life, and this while asking myself - how much worse can it get anyway?

Some of my friends use the word 'depression' quite loosely and I'm sure it is a difficult task for anyone to say when exactly it is that they need help, and when things are beyond their own control. Looking back, I can think of a situation where one should know that help is needed. I'd say that a situation where the sadness is affecting one's social behaviour should be the trigger point. For example, I remember being extremely sad on my nineteenth birthday. My friends had put in a lot of effort to put together a small surprise for me, and yet I remember being self-destructive and upset. Another pointer would be the loss of rationality. This is obviously harder to figure out because to detect a loss of rationality itself needs a certain degree of rationality.

I don't know how I slipped into depression. I remember behaving increasingly irrationally because I was having troubles with my friends. This was also perhaps the only time that I was evicted from the class due to a severe discipline issue. I had lost interest in life, and I didn't see the point in continuing with life. I rationalised it saying that the net present value of all my expected future happiness was less than the sadness I was experiencing at that time. I had become violent and explosive, and more so with myself than with others. 

My interaction with my friends was the facet that was most severely affected. I wanted them to pay attention to my condition, and at several times I violently demanded it. Yet, at other moments I wished to be left alone, and I was equally violent in demanding my solitude. I'm sure it was an impossible tightrope for them; and one that God has been kind enough to show to me later on.

This went on for a couple of months, and began to thaw only when I sought professional help. The medication helped me take a distanced view from my emotions by making me feel unnaturally happy. Over the next few months, I began to feel more related, I also regained my rationality and began to think in a more balanced fashion. I wouldn't say that the violent tendencies went away, but they became more sporadic. On the treacherous path of recovery, I soon found myself engulfed by politicking over student societies, and that was another setback that I had to deal with. Of course, my thinking still hadn't matured to enable me to deal with those responsibly, but I look back at it as a learning experience.

I never understood the magnitude of unfairness I had heaped on those who loved me until I was put through the same by two of my friends. On the other side of this irrationality, I found every effort futile. We build walls of irrationality, and then we combine it with impatience and hence create a deadly mixture. It would always be helpful to just be kind to those who love you, and try your best to prevent them hurt. Because me hurting myself hurt them too, and I would have stopped had I cared about how they felt.

The depression did take away a significant lot from me. I lost my best friend at that time - firstly because I felt he caused/exacerbated my descent into depression; and secondly because my mind conditioned itself to hating him, and this was part of the recovery plan. Hating him became such an integral part of me, because I needed that support to climb back up. As I then discovered, true hatred (like I had for me) can only come after true love. My hatred for him fueled me and enabled me to do all that I did in the next one year.

I also suffered severe reputational damage. I'm sure I didn't behave in the best way in those winter months of early 2011. While some people formed a strong opinion about me, very few knew what was going on behind the scenes. I remember one day when I bunked class and caused bodily harm to myself, and yet I turned up in the afternoon for one of the society events that I had organised. My life was spinning out of control then, and I feel let down by people who formed an ill-informed opinion about me then.

Thankfully, all of that is well past. I have probably been put through far worse by the other people I have loved immensely, and yet I do not react like that. There is no more blood, or fire. I am able to internalise the pain and not have it pour out violently. The depression did make me a much better person, and it taught me so, so much. I also taught myself one thing - to never fear. One of the good things I did back then was to never fear - fear the repercussions of my actions, fear authority, fear what people would say about me, or fear the future. I never want to live my life in fear of anything. To fear is the worst I could do to myself.

I once had a friend about whom I always knew one thing - she was a good weather friend. I knew that she would be repulsed by or annoyed with negativity and hence would steer herself clear of it whenever she encountered such situations. While I did not take a moralistic position on it, I was always uncomfortable with it; because for me relationships were meant to be helpful. However, I've recently found myself being pushed down a path that will result me being somewhat like her. I prefer to call it a 'violent end'.

Let us first put this in context. As much as I like to be around people, I am perfectly capable of staying away from them too. The last year of my schooling, which I spent in complete isolation, did two things to me - it made me value friends and relationships; and it made me realise how much tolerance I have for solitude. In fact, I can trace back so many of my most essential traits to that year - the compassion, the latent violence, the fears and insecurities.

Over the past couple of months, I've felt trapped. I've felt that decisions in my life were not being made by me; or even if I was the one making them, I didn't have a free hand in doing so. I have been yearning for freedom. I have been dragged into unpleasant situations (and often due to my own lack of foresight), then asked to leave those situations at a time when I was unable to. I saw my self-image being battered incessantly; and it took a toll on how I was feeling. I have been habituated to put up a facade to hide what I truly feel, but then this is something that the friend I earlier talked about also did. I do not want to become like her.

If (and it increasingly seems to be a question of when, not if) I do reach that point of breaking off, I would be extremely disappointed. I believe that we shouldn't let bitter memories or bitter experiences make us bitter individuals. It must not reduce our zest for life - both for the bad and good days. My condition right now feels like a person who has been under slow poisoning for a long time. I have become intrinsically bitter about my condition, so much so that I have accepted it and stopped feeling strongly about it. But now, the more I am put through this hell, the more strongly I feel about my own righteousness. I think I've moved beyond the stage of reason and logic; now there is a strong voice that says so.

Human life is obviously not as predictable that sitting today, I could say that this would happen, and then that would happen. I really don't know, and here I've outlined one of those possibilities that to me looks very likely, and yet depressing.

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle" - Plato

On my facebook home page, I come across status messages put up by my College juniors where they talk about how epic their three years in College have been. It gives me immense joy to see people who see their past three years, and perhaps earlier, as a dream, or a journey. It is heartening to read about people looking back fondly at a 'great battle' that they have just fought. It is hard for me to imagine my life minus the story that I have weaved it into.

I look at my life as a great battle too. There have been three instances where I 'leased out' a part of my life to someone, and in each case I ended up getting terribly bruised. You do learn about people on the other wise, but that learning is too specific to be of much use. More importantly, I learnt more about myself, about my value systems, about what matters to me and what doesn't.

I discovered that the best 'metric' of love is the ability to withstand pain and still love. I think I've done quite well on that front. What I now begin to wonder is whether it is worth it. I believe there's a tendency in each one of us to take this 'great battle' analogy too far, and then to drown in, and enjoy, this pool of self-pity. At some point, we need to step back and ask ourselves whether it is worth it.

I have unfortunately had the best and worst experiences with people. I've met people who've filled my life with love, and who've been a pillar of strength, without knowing it. Then there are those who have sought to have control over my life and dictate the way I live my life. It has given my life a new direction and a new purpose - free will.

What constitutes Free Will:

(1) The right to dream without constraints

(2) An unprejudiced society to discuss the dream

(3) A nourishing atmosphere to pursue the dream

(4) The right to fail, and not be branded for the failure

(5) Most importantly, the right to start afresh

These ideas are now quite dear to me, because I have been denied at least one of these at any point in my life, and that is the source of discontentment and disillusionment in my life. I value these, and I hope to dedicate the rest of my life to these 5 principles.

I intend to interpret these as both personal and societal objectives. It is as valid for me as an individual, as it is for my idea of an ideal society. I believe it is necessary both for my personal happiness, and our society's welfare. Perhaps this is what Plato meant by being kind. Everyone is fighting his/her own great battle. The least we can do is to let them, and support them.