This event, which will go down in history as this century’s Black Death, helped me dismantle many ideas I had held in firm belief- ideas about the glorified system of education in India, about life and death, about the existence of God.
ISRA MOHAMMED NADEEM SHAIKH
The thing closest to Corona has always been beer. I knew people were named Corona (those people cease to exist in today’s time because
of ragging in workplaces and otherwise) but that was about it. What started as a series of events in Wuhan ended up being rewritten into a dozen ‘controversial stories’. There has been absolutely nothing fascinating about its global entry since then, and things have mostly either snowballed or evaporated. Here’s how Corona changed the world for me.
Prologue
I was in the corridor when my professor (his strides were small but quick) announced, ‘We’re not going to be able to go to the Mumbai trip, Isra.’ I remember vividly the train of thoughts that followed—the virus is just going through things like I did when puberty happened. It is definitely going to end; I am definitely going to see the other side of this tunnel. As dramatic as it sounds, this Mumbai trip was an event that could have nicely wrapped up how my time in college was going to end—that lonely NRI kid on the first day of college could never imagine the last day of college. Fun fact: I was right, I still can never imagine the last day of college, and COVID made me realise my perceptions of this construct I had created for myself as an average student could all be flushed in one go. I naturally refused to buy that tea.
My Suitcase
For the first few months, life was at a standstill, and a lot of this silence stemmed from the fact that our country still lacks in efficient administration because ministers in their seats can never relate to the chic Gen
Z with their fake accents and intimidating
hair colour. Education as a concept was seen
as nothing but a joke. Colleges either went
on announcing dates for incoming exams or kept mum in the face of uncertainty—and to someone who practically lived their life in the corridors of the college for twelve hours or so at a stretch, this seemed inhumane. I’ve never felt so disconnected from the system before. We ran into professors that told us to prepare for our exams because they were scheduled two weeks from then, and then there were professors that advised us to wait. Orders came from various officials; press releases were something I read like the Qur’an every day. But the head refused to acknowledge the body again and again. I signed online petitions at Change.org, I filled Google forms by the state student body. I reblogged about mental health because I’m a student set in an environment created by adults who know lesser about education and its true essence than running the country. One of my professors was especially kind to create safe space, a place
I went to often in my head, because at that moment in time, while fighting for my right to learn, I realised how overlooked mental health is when placed beside career- the race was always rigged from the start. What was more terrifying was this- I needed a pandemic to disrupt the institution in order to realise what lay behind the face of education. At this point, I began unpacking. I started by taking out my kadaa (silver bracelet).
Reopening — Virtually and Really
College recently physically reopened—there were students coming in and going out the way the British first did in India. But throughout the few months of online classes, I did what I was expected to do. I attended sessions religiously, and it became more important to me than
my breakfast. A few weeks later I had begun beating myself up for it, and later started my dragging myself to attending class. Microsoft Teams must’ve thrived on the after-effects of the pandemic (I have my theories on how the pandemic started but it’ll probably at most
rival flat earthers.) Every day I took on the form of Sisyphus, rolling my very own boulder. Friends who were family left, and friends who weren’t friends became my chaddi buddies-
and so with the little support that I had, I manoeuvred through twists and turns, got notes for the classes I missed because of bad internet connection or simply because I was too tired to concentrate. I began to think about kids who weren’t as privileged as I was, kids who lived several kilometres away from the boundaries of the hub.
Now that college has physically resumed, I find myself back where I originally started. I feel lost in this vacuum created, but in some ways I feel it was very necessary. This event, which will go down in history as this century’s Black Death, helped me dismantle many ideas I had held in firm belief—ideas about the glorified system of education in India, about life and death, about the existence of God. As a student, I began to think deeper.
Epilogue
This so called ‘Education’ that we have is nothing but ‘The Rich Kids Co.’ It is a parasitic manifestation that feeds off how successful
you are, and delivers opportunities to you in such a way that you become conditioned to believe there are things you can never achieve. Of course, there are exceptions. There are always exceptions. Living through stagnance and still finding momentum became my personal badge of honour.
∎
