Dasgupta academic travels

 Academic travel is an innovative way to introduce students to development issues in developing countries. From 2014, I have led academic travels to India and Bhutan as a part of courses titled-

'Neoliberal India' and 'Sustainable Economic Development'. 

Here are some photos of different sites visited during my travels. 

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Born Again

As the little boy sat next to the window
Staring into the emptiness,
He heard a voice from somewhere
Which asked the reason for his sadness.

He looked around, but could see no one
He wondered from where the voice came?
He asked the unknown voice
'Who are you and what's your name?'

The answer was shocking and surprising
As the voice said, it was a tree.
"I am standing right in front of you
Dear, open your eyes and see."

"I have seen you sitting here so many times
And I wonder what you think
Your blank eyes worry me child
Tell me what makes your heart sink."

"Why don't you come out and play?
Why don't you jump and dance?"
The boy kept quiet for a while
As if he was in a trance.

Quietly the boy said, "I can't"
The tree was surprised and asked him why
"I can't move my legs
And, I can't jump or dance" came the short reply.

The tree then said, "Don't be sad.
One day you will be able to play
Then you can come and climb me
Mark my words, I say."

The tree and boy became the best of friends
They laughed and cried together
Through the window they talked and talked
And promised they will be friends forever.

One day, the boy said happily
I am going to a faraway place
There they will make my legs alright
And then, I will be able to walk with grace.

The tree was happy and delighted
And it said, "I will wait for you.
Then we can play all the games you want
And I hope very soon I see you."

After six months the boy came back
I can play with my friend he thought
As he got down from the car
In place of the tree, all he could see was a parking lot.

His eyes were filled with tears
As he came to know his friend was cut and sold
The boy was angry and upset
As his mother said, "Anyway the tree was very old"

The boy went near the place
Where his friend once stood
There he saw a little sapling
And like a flash everything he understood.

He took the sapling and planted it in the woods
With the picture of his old friend in his mind
Now he could see the sapling grow
And cherish the memories his friend has left behind. 

Search

Search.

In the stillness of life, I search for movement,

In the pell-mell of life I search for silence.

In the burning deserts of life I search for shade,

In the comforting shades of life I search for challenges.

In the mighty planes of life I search for corners,

In the tiny corners of life I search for vastness.

In the shallow waters of life I search for knowledge,

In the deep oceans of life I search for ignorance.

In the unknown crowds of life I search for an identity,

In the known valleys of life I search for anonymity.

In the harsh reality of life I search for an illusion,

In the deceptive illusion of life I search for the truth.

In the disorderly array of life I search for perfection,

In this quest for perfection, I discover life.

Mumbai.

I am Mumbai. On the shores of Arabian sea, looking westward to the holy land of Mecca. Everyday thousands throng into my heart, all with dreams. Some big. Some small. But dreams nonetheless. I am not a city. I am an illusion. An illusion with bright lights and darker shadows. An illusion made of unreal stories and broken dreams. An illusion that is broken with every heartbeat and reinforced with every breath. As far as the eye can see, I see people of all colors and features. They all call me their own. I am not defined by a language or a religion. I am defined by a spirit that can not be defined.

I sing the tunes of the films that are made here. I wear the sweat of the mill workers who worked here. I  taste the hard work of dabbawallas who bring food to millions here. I believe in the faith of Mount Mary, Siddhivinayak and Haji Ali. I dance to the music of dandiya and the dhol of  Durga Puja. I wake up to the holy sounds of Azaans in Bombay Central and sleep to the quiet murmurs of the distant waterfalls in the ghats. I live vicariously through the youth of Fashion street and Colaba causeway. I relive my past  with the sounds of Bhindi Bazaar and the songs of the kolis. I smile at undying spirit of the kids who grow up on my streets. I am saddened  by the unending pursuit of money at Dalal Street.

Yes, I am an illusion. An illusion one can touch and feel and see. I am an illusion made up of millions of dreams. I am an illusion people live in and call their own. I... am Mumbai.

Good bye 20s....I will miss you soon....

The first feeling of freedom in one's life comes when one starts going to college....at least it did for me. The feeling of being able  to travel on your own to a world of its own possibilities, to a world of new friends and a canvas of unlimited dreams is truly the feeling of freedom.

Its interesting, whenever I rewind my life to the most happiest and most carefree days of my life, I think of my college days. The feeling of the moist cool sea breeze across our faces as we crossed the creek on our local trains to get to college, the overrated jokes from F.R.I.E.N.D.S giving us a sense of uber coolness, the innumerable teenage crushes on cricketers and others.....all gave us a sense of freedom, we had never experienced. 

While college life brought its own challenges and heartbreaks, it made us aware of a world beyond our high schools and homes. It brought us face to face with so many different facets of our own society that we were never aware of. 

College life brought friends, hopes and dreams into our lives. It told us what we were capable of. It was a place where inexperienced visions of life melted away to give way to a more mature understanding of life. 

It was a time of countless hours spent sipping coffee and having some what serious discussions about life and sundry. It was a time of exploring our own city with new eyes. It was a time of sneaking away from college to watch movies and cricket. It was a time of using our student ids to get into air conditioned art galleries for free to beat the heat. It was time to go a particular Goan restaurant for a cheap plate of prawn fried rice. It was a time of carefully counting our pocket money and buying trinkets off the street. It was a time, when the sky seemed bluer and the world looked like a glass half full. 

As I stand on the threshold of my fourth decade in the world, I suspect, I will soon look back into my 20s, as a period of growing maturity and subtle mannerism . I will look back at my 20s as enjoying my freedom with a growing sense of responsibilities. I will look back at my 20s as a time when the F.R.I.E.N.D.S didn't make you laugh as hard and cups of coffees are gulped down with a great sense of urgency. 

So good bye 20s, I will miss you soon...

Mind your volume please!

All right! What is with people speaking loudly on their phones?? No, I don’t get it…I simply don’t. Is it a desperate need to get attention or is that people simply don’t realize that they are loud?

I have often wondered why people tend to be so loud on the phone. I remember when we were younger; it used to be a great thrill to get phone calls from my uncle who lived abroad. Considering the phone connections used to be very bad those days, it was but natural that my grandparents had to raise their voices to make sure that their son heard them well. But twenty years later, I refuse to accept that technology can be blamed for people speaking loudly on their phones. Things have got so bad nowadays that when a phone rings in my vicinity, I fear that I will become a part of somebody’s intimate discussions without wanting to be part of it.

I distinctly remember my hostel days, when we used to get calls from our parents only once in a while, and we used to be particularly happy when we got one. So there I had an excited friend who received a call from her mother after a long time. It was natural that she spoke to her for a long time asking her about her health, the weather there and what was for dinner that night. The reason that I knew what the conversation was like is not because she told me about it, but simply because I heard her while she was on the phone. I guess its always a little difficult to have private conversations in a hostel, but the I swear I was not trying to invade her privacy….I was on the second floor watching television, while she was two floors below in the common area!!!

I have always tried to keep it low when I am on phone, fearing that I might disturb others around me. But it upsets me a lot when I don’t get the same degree of concern from others. Adam Smith in his “Theory of Moral Sentiments” said that “ we put ourselves in the position of a vicarious spectator and tune our behaviour to the pitch that we know from our experience will seem appropriate to others.” Forget tuning once behaviour, people are not even ready to tune their pitches for other people. Why is it that people have absolutely no respect for others? This sort of behaviour irks me the most when I am in the library trying to study (yes, a very rare activity, but not an extinct one!). So instead of trying to figure out as to how New Keynesian economics is different from new classical, I am forced to listen to the work schedule of the girl sitting on the next table or the guest list to one’s thanksgiving dinner.

Ok, lets assume that people are not concerned about other people, therefore they don’t have any problems being loud on the phone. But don’t they have respect for their own privacy at least??? I mean I have no particular interest in knowing how one’s date last night ended or did not end. I have no desire to know the recipe for pumpkin pie or by how much the stock prices of Microsoft has gone up. So, here I am peacefully reading a book in the confines of my own house, when I suddenly hear my neighbour across the lane talking on the phone to his parents and asking them for some more money. By the end of the phone call, I had a complete knowledge of the boy’s financial situation and that he was going to receive an additional five hundred dollars that month! Hmmm….maybe its time to make a new friend! ;)

The silent sound of snow..

 The sky turns red, giving an illusion of day break. And the snow drops in like a quiet house guest tiptoeing so as to not wake up it's hosts. The white blanket slowly covers all that was around us. With the first rays of sunlight one sees the tiny paw prints of furry friends who you did not know lived in the backyard. The bare branches of trees bow down with the burden of snow on them. A lone bird looks around for food, which safely sleeps under the warm hug of the white snow. The soft snow under your feet gives you the feel of white sands and far away lands with sunshine and warmth. The bitter cold reminds you of how harsh nature can be. At the same time, the peacefulness of the snow reminds you of everything that is right with the world.