to study or not to study

It's ridiculous. The average fees for a taught Masters programme in England for a resident or European student is not more than 3,000 pounds. And the fees for the same course for an international student is 11,000 pounds. Given our exchange rate, that's like buying an Audi Q5. At least I can show off an Audi Q5 and have men and women alike fall at my feet. But that doesn't change the fact that I will be applying to universities in the UK for a highly expensive Masters degree at some point [hopefully when the exchange rate is not too high].

Why, though? I know my reasons [some may call them excuses]. Since my chosen topic has no takers in India, there really aren't any Masters programmes in it. I've come across one three-month course but I doubt that's even a certificate course. Sigh. And some people like my editor-in-chief even asked me "But why would you want to study Creative Writing??"

Why, indeed. Because I'd rather not do a media and communications course and waste my time and mother's hard-earned money? And because I'm the sort that believes you aren't always born with everything -- if you're born with a talent, maybe you could try nurturing it and sharpening your skills a little. And oh god, I'm bored of working everyday. Honestly. I know my job is interesting to a lot of people, and it is to me as well, on most days at least. But who needs an expensive Masters in the nuances of journalism and communication when all it takes is a) a pretty face [for television], b) ability to aggressively hunt down stories, c) ability to get people to talk even when they don't want to, and preferably say things that you want them to say so it fits with your story, d) time management skills, e) excellent contacts, or the charm and intelligence to make new ones if you're a beginner, and f) ability to keep boss and [maybe, if needed] colleagues happy.

Yes, that's a little harsh but it's mostly true. What else do you need to know... writing skills? *guffaw* That's what sub-editors and editors are for. Hmm, what else. Ethics? What's that? No, really. The journalists I know with ethics kind of have it instilled in them during the course of their childhood. If they don't have it... well, they don't. And those are the ones more suited for television. [Having worked in television, I think I can say that without a moment's doubt].

Coming back to a postgraduate degree. No point in doing it in this field honestly. And I've always dreamed of working at my own pace, in my own space, and simply writing. No news briefs and whatnot. [no offense to news briefs - they're wondrous in comparison to hunting down pointless sound bytes for idiotic stories on security threats which exist only in the minds of executive editors at TV news stations]

I want to write. Sigh. You may say one does not need to study that. Well I *want* to study that. [No no, that was not said a la child throwing a tantrum in supermarket demanding ice-cream]. I honestly would rather study something I'm enamoured with and would want to pursue, than something pointless like, say oh I dunno... anthropological media and communications studies.

Which brings me back to - why are Indian students willing to pay so much to study HR and the like, and why are universities abroad charging so much from people from supposed developing nations? Colonial hangover, much?

mercury rising

It’s April and it’s already four degrees above the normal temperature where I live. In more ways than one. The world is truly coming to an end… we’re going to melt or drown very soon. So is our so-called democracy. I’m not going to preach or grumble about the media or democracy or elections or politicians… I’m going to sit back, eat some really juicy mangoes, and watch the fun unfold like I’m watching a really bad episode of Heroes. What can I say… I’m hooked to the news now. Unfortunately. And the news here is very bad. In fact it’s inspiring a lot of satirical writing from my end. In between juggling mangoes, the television remote and my laptop though I will also find time to go out and cast my first ever vote, in the coming parliamentary elections. Yes, maybe it’ll be a debacle. Maybe it already is a complete farce and debacle. Okay, it IS. Who am I kidding. But I will vote anyway. As a citizen of this godforsaken democracy. If I don’t care why should the politicians or media care. Damn.. Sorry. And I said I wouldn’t preach.

It’s just that my job involves reporting aforementioned debacles. A job which has taken over my life. That’s nothing new. My work in newspapers itself made me disappear from people’s lives for weeks. Television however is a totally different ballgame. A violent and extreme one at that. Call me a typical print journalist, but I haven’t been able to stomach television media. In my country at least. It’s not only bought all my time, it’s bought my entire life. My friends don’t know I’m alive… let me re-phrase… I have no friends who aren’t reporters now. And my mother actually asked me to quit so she could see me once in a way and put some fat on my bones. Which I’m glad to say I’ve done. [gasp again]. Which brings me to what am I going to do next? I don’t know [bigger gasp?]

Just because I’ve not posted anything on my blog in nearly [gasp!] a month, it does not mean I’m not writing. I have been. So joy to the world! It’s made me very happy, as well as sad. I’m now left wondering how on earth to make a profession out of this when I know nothing whatsoever about how to write or who to sell my writing to. Ahem, if anyone wants it that is. Currently on my plate are [wait, I’m counting] five, yes five, pieces of writing I need to complete asap. Not bad for someone who hadn’t touched pen and paper in almost two years. I have a miles to go before I sleep, though. Literally. And since I’m still working my notice period I have to juggle a 24/7 job and five incomplete scripts. Sigh. It’s April and it’s already four degrees above the normal temperature. I hope I can take the heat.