But I’m Educated

I went to school, sat still in class
And watched 15 strange years pass
Then one day I was felicitated
And they said I’m educated.

Unfortunately, my education
Was impervious to any vocation
My vanity was quickly deflated
And I rued the day I was educated.

I wondered then and wonder now
What was I educated on, and how?
I just know facts that are unrelated
Apparently that makes me educated.

“But I don’t know anything,” said I
As I couldn’t spot half-truths and lies
They said it’s okay, we’re all frustrated
But at least we’re all educated.

I fear that most of my education
Was a course on generalisation
Help, I’ve been indoctrinated!
I wish I weren’t so educated.

Why do people romanticise jingo
Why is violence entwined in our lingo?
My father says its complicated
But it’s good that I’m educated.

I sought a use for my educated views
So I lobbed fruitless facts at the news
I took pleasure in being opinionated
As I was grievously educated.

Something was amiss, I realised
When the things that I most despised
Instead of being actively berated
Were being abetted by the educated.

I tired soon of my tedious tirade
My quotidian quips were unmade
I then reopened, much too belated
The Curious Case of Being Educated.

I slowly open my ears, open my eyes
Listen to the madmen and question the wise
As my former education is dissipated
Bit by bit I’m being educated.

Sharing Courage

I had parked my car by the roadside and was walking down the narrow path, choosing not to risk getting caught in the claustrophobic maze that hovers on the edge of every link road. Immersed in flitting thoughts, I had almost reached the apartment complex of the one I was to visit, to apparently encourage him and pray with him for his happiness. God knew I needed more inspiration for my life than he did. All I knew were words.

Suddenly I felt my shirt sleeve being tugged. There was a small boy no more than half my height, looking up with a very serious expression. “Bhaiya can you drop me to the road? There are dogs here.” I was mildly surprised, not least because I wasn’t one who was approached often by children, having the least ‘people-friendly’ vibes among all my friends. Nevertheless, I nodded to him and said a brief, “Chalo.” My hand was firmly grabbed by the child, with the passive-aggressiveness of one claiming protection by decree. I smiled and somehow felt heartened and bemused all at once, at the thought of someone looking towards me as a protector of sorts. As we walked back towards where I’d come from, me with brisk, heavy paces and him with measured puttering, I saw the dogs who I had previously ignored. I saw the boy getting increasingly anxious, and to avoid the possibility of having to carry him across, I started talking.

“Why are you scared? Only if you show fear will they try to scare you.” “No bhaiya I was chased by dogs. Almost got bitten once.” I couldn’t argue with that, because before being bitten multiple times by Button, I also shared a somewhat tense relationship with dogs, thanks to one nasty experience with a bristly and ill-kept Pomeranian in my childhood. I knew explaining the psychology of canine behaviour was not the best path, so I did what my mom always does with Button. I humanized them. “Look, they are fighting with each other. They don’t have time for you. That other dog is sitting on a car, he won’t come down and put so much effort. Look, they also have chhote babies.” As he calmed, we reached the other shore. He abruptly let go and said, “Bas yahin theek hai (this is fine).”

I looked at him one last time, overriding my tendency to avoid eye contact with almost everyone. As we stared at each other, man to man, he nodded and said, “Thank you bhaiya, I will come back on my own.” I smiled briefly and started on my way back, with slightly longer strides and exuding fearless geniality towards the preoccupied dogs.