Pujit Aggarwal

    As a student, I often came across ads that marketed speed reading. Quite a few institutions offered short courses in this highly touted skill. They would support their claims and underpin the advantages by adducing the names of eminent celebrities who could speedread dozens of books in a couple of weeks.    If you can read more books within the time at your disposal, you can garner more information and knowledge to upgrade your status as a student, a professional, or a paladin. The premise underlying the proposition, though untenable under clinical scrutiny, seems to be quite specious.         Some of the front-bench classmates bragged about the number of books they had been speedreading over the weekends. There was no way of verifying what books those were or how much the speed-readers retained of what they claimed to have read.    I was a backbencher beset with all sorts of self-doubt. I was a reader, as and when I chose ...

    Philosophers are often misunderstood on account of their individualism, eccentricity, or studied divergence of views. When Alexander the Great traveled to meet the philosopher Diogenes and offered to grant any request he made, Diogenes snapped nonchalantly: “Stand out of my light!”     The King was neither amused nor miffed by the gaucherie. He knew the stature of the threadbare Diogenes who preferred to live in a tub rather than a palace. Alexander is reported to have said to some of his courtiers later, “… had I not been Alexander, I would have loved to be Diogenes.”      Friedrich Nietzsche is one of the most misunderstood philosophers of the nineteenth century. He has been held responsible for the death of God. He has been charged with racism and antisemitism. He is believed to have sown the seeds of fascism and the final solution in the last book published after his death.     His notion of the ubermensch is cons...

      I scanned through the internet to ascertain whether there were any helplines or experts who could guide me as to how one can mitigate boredom. Not that I myself have any personal problem with this malaise. I have been fortunate enough to ward off boredom and its sibling sleeplessness most of the time. What baffles me is the frequent coverage and confession of boredom in the media including Sunday supplements of newspapers.      Boredom is rife in all walks of life, except in religion and voluntary adherence of rites it entails. A built-in component of confession, expiation, and hope infuses the prayers with a sincerity of interest that does not always inhere in social and personal transactions. An orison for boons of health and wealth presupposes utmost authenticity.      I have often found myself stifling a yawn or two against the unctuous patter of formal introductions. Come to think of it, are the perpetrators of such patter the...

      It was an extremely busy and tiring day with half a dozen meetings back to back. I took a very light meal and retired to crash out for the night. I requested the inmates of the house not to disturb me if there was a call from anyone.     I fell asleep within minutes. It was one of those ideal periods of sleep that would block even pleasant dreams just in case they tickled my fancy or imagination and interrupted the repose induced by a deep slumber. I heard the mobile tinkle on my right. I declined the call. I decided not to check who it was from. I went back to sleep.     I don’t how much time had elapsed but the phone tinkled again. Declining the call or the notification or the message, I picked up the device and switched it off. I had deported the spectra of cyberia and digitalia for the night. I closed my eyes and snuggled up into the cosy bosom of Morpheus, the patron god of restorative sleep and dreams.     I wa...

  My mother was more particular about my moral code and conduct than my performance in the periodic exams held by the school. If I got good grades, she would pat me on the back, if I under performed, she would just beam a smile and encourage me to study methodically and pay more attention to subjects in which I was weak. She would assure me that I had enormous potential as a learner, and I should never ever consider the exam results to be the last judgment. She was never paranoid about the downside of my schooling. My school friends envied me for being blessed with a mother who was never obsessed with grades. They reported hours of third-degree interrogation at home, demanding answers and justification as to why their score was so pathetic despite a posse of private tutors coaching them over the weekends and during holidays. The anxiety of the stigma of chronic mediocrity staining their children sometimes pushed them over the edge, impelling them to a round of counselors and expert...

  Among all the moral qualities our parents, teachers, and scriptures inculcate in us is sincerity . It is not employed as frequently as it used to be in the good old days. There may be a small chapter in the unopened handbook of business ethics wherein it is explained and recommended with caution and tact. When practised and promoted without finesse in the corporate transactions, or practical give-and-take, it can lead to underachievement, even disappointment. In a loose sense, we can equate it with honesty and frankness: easy to preach but hard to practise. No wonder scriptures invariably prefer words like truthfulness, verity or variants that are loaded with figurative and allegorical freight. A rather well-known saying from the founder of one of the three Abrahamic religions states: “Render unto the labourer his wages before the sweat on his brow becomes dry”. Simplified into the common man's lingo, it means: pay now not later. Discharge your liabilities on time. According to t...

The moment you are born, the auspicious event instantly creates several ad hoc relative identities. Your entry into the world has given birth to mother, father, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, grandpa, granny, and any number of cousins. All of them welcome you to their fold. You are a bonny, mettlesome baby. The world is your oyster. Joining the pre-school and subsequently the school, you will discover the comforting equipage of classmates and playmates some of whom you will, for lack of a better word, miscall friends. They are fellow travellers and fellow sufferers under the back-breaking weight of the school bag you lug all the way to school and home.  No sooner do you upgrade from one class to another, than the equation changes. The old familiar faces scatter to the periphery, giving way to new classmates sitting next to you. Some are left behind and some now occupy the front row, basking in the supportive nimbus of the teacher on the dais. With a little bit of luck, one or two of...