The Siren Call of Polymathy
I love writing. It gives me such a high to write without censoring, to let the words just grow on the page, me having fun with it, not caring how it sounds, not caring what others think.
Iām writing a delightfully absurd play as an assignment for drama class. This is one of those times when you realise you canāt have possibly chosen anything else but the path you did in life. Iāve often felt disillusioned about my work here in college, wondered what was the point of it all. The Humanities is often so full of its own shit and is so spectacularly useless that it makes one despair. But then something like this happensāyou write, you read a good book, and youāre reminded again about why you chose this in the first place. Why you love it. I love writing. I love working with words. I love creating. I feel stable, fixed, when Iām creating stories, putting down my thoughts into words, reading back what Iāve written and knowing that Iāve got something good, something people will connect to, people will love to read, people will laugh with.
In some other post, but now I think it will be this one, I wanted to speak about the allure of polymathy. A polymath someone talented in various different fields. They can play the flute, hold forth on mathematical equations, and dance the salsa all with remarkable talent and ease. I wanted nothing more than to be a polymath. Itās very simple: 1) The more things you do, the more people you meet, and the more experiences you create. 2) The more things you do, the more diverse states of being you experienceāthereās the adrenaline rush spiking through your veins as you play basketball; thereās this sense of play, of a complete lack of inhibition as you act in a play; thereās the intellectual excitement of making a killing speech and destroying your opponents. 3) The more things you do well, the more confident you are in yourself, and the more respect you get from others.
Now, Iāve tried. Iāve tried dabbling in whatever field of endeavour I couldāmusic, art, sport, chess. It went disastrously. Iāve always been called a smart child. Everyone I knew always said it. Parents, teachers, peers. I was that kid, the one your parents are always comparing you with (If she can do so well on the test, why canāt you?) I aced tests. I knew how to do them. By the time I came graduated school, I knew confidently I was going to top my batch. And I did.
The problem was, Iād always been told I was smart. I was used to getting things easily, to not have to struggle so much to learn things. Actually, thatās not true. I remember struggling with the maths tables in 4th. I kept messing them up. But I also remember my mom did not let me give up. She sat down with me and made me repeat it until I was word perfect and could do the calculations in my head. My parents always placed a high priority on doing well in school. I simply had to be the best academically. It was an unquestioned assumption that I would be. I pushed myself to live up to that ideal and succeeded much of the time. Even when I messed up sometimes or did not achieve what Iād hoped for, I saw myself as capable of it, and thus made myself capable of it. Even though I struggled many a time, I never lost faith in myself.
Thus I know that academically Iāll always be good. But Iāve never been pushed to be good or develop my skills in any other field. To be honest, I was never really interested in any other field. All I wanted to do was read books. And occasionally write stories. I also liked doing word puzzles and logic puzzles, which I happen to be very good at as well. I see a pattern here. I tend to like doing only the things Iām good at already. I wrote, and then I stopped writing, not because I stopped liking it, but because I thought I sucked at it. Of course, I could have become good at most of these things because I liked them and thus did them so often, which is true, but I also do stop doing things that I like but which I feel Iām not mastering quickly enough. Simply doing something isnāt enough for me. I must be the best at it, or it has no appeal for me.
The trouble with a college like IIT is that it reinforces this way of thinking. There are so many different people doing such awesome stuff. Itās great that theyāre doing it, and they should keep doing it. But there is a hierarchy generated that puts them at the top and the rest immediately are categorised as inferior, not a nice feeling for someone whoās always been on the top till then. So everyone feels the pressure to be the best of the best. To be . . . everything. I live with that pressure everyday. Everyday I push myself to do more, to be more productive, to look more beautiful, to be more intellectual, to have more skills, to get the complete college experience. And of course, this is impossible to do. Hereās what a proper IITian is expected to do:
1) Maintain a 9.5 CGPA at least. True IITians are intellectually at the top of the game always.
2) Have a leadership position in Shaastra or Saarang or both. Nothing less than core level will do.
3) Do brilliant internships each vacation, be productive, learn skills.
4) Have a brilliant college life, hitting all the happening spots in the city, having intellectual discussions on life, the universe and everything over cups of chai right outside the campus gates, and smoking with professors / taking road trips with friends every weekend.
5) If youāre a boy, have a girlfriend. If youāre a girl, be pretty and hot.
6) Be involved in every extracurricular there is. Be part of a college sports team. Represent your hostel at competitions. Write for the college newsletter. Write poetry and stories that are published in journals and magazines. Paint cool, artsy stuff for fun and decorate your room with them. Act in college plays. Take part in debates, MUNs, quizzes. Win them all. Read everything from Derrida and Foucault to Eleanor Catton to Richard Feynman to quantum physics.
7) Always be productive. Never waste time doing lame stuff like surfing Facebook too much or lurking on tumblr.
This sounds outrageous. But itās a very real pressure. Just because no one can be everything doesnāt prevent the yearning after it. You have this fantasy that one day youāll do everything right, and all sorrow and frustration and loneliness will go away for ever. And thereās a constant deference, as Derrida might say, of this, and thus thereās a constant absence even if there are glimpses of the presence of something like this state. What is the signified of the signifier āperfectionā? We will never know because we will never achieve it. It could very well be defined as everything youāre not doing, thus operating as permanent difference, as Derrida put it. (I read up Derrida for an exam recently and heās fresh in my mind. Excuse the pretentiousness. But he does make sense.)
But thereās another way. And thatās to chuck all expectationsābreak the hierarchy and the binary of higher/lower as deconstruction advocates and just do what you love, no strings attached. Thatās what happens with writing. It makes me feel like I need nothing else at the moment. I need to start doing the things that make me feel that, and just chuck all expectations into the bin where they belong.