Of Gurus, Fellow Travellers and a Well-Spent Weekend

There are weekends when one intends to accomplish something productive. Organise the study, answer neglected emails, perhaps even persuade the wardrobe that shirts do not belong on chairs. Instead, one watches two series and convinces oneself that this too is education. I have become remarkably good at this form of self-deception.

The first was Adarsh Vidyalaya on Amazon Prime Video.

One approaches it expecting another school drama. Schools, after all, are favourite hunting grounds for scriptwriters. What one discovers instead is a gentle reminder that our education system often mistakes information for education. Buildings become grander, syllabi become thicker, and examinations become increasingly inventive, but none of these things has ever produced a remarkable human being.

Teachers do.

Or, to be more precise, Gurus do.

There is an important difference. A teacher completes the syllabus. A Guru quietly rewrites the student. Years later, one forgets trigonometry, chemical formulae, and perhaps even the capital of Kazakhstan, but one never forgets the man or woman who first convinced us that we were capable of becoming something better than we imagined.

Then there is Cafe Musafir on Netflix.

Kay Kay Menon has arrived at that delightful stage in an actor's life where he appears to have stopped acting altogether. He merely exists, and the camera faithfully records it. His silences have become more eloquent than many actors' speeches.

The series reminded me of those of us who have spent years living away from family. Strange cities have an odd habit of lending you temporary families. A colleague becomes a brother, a neighbour becomes an aunt, a tea stall becomes a drawing room, and a café becomes the place where friendships and relationships quietly begin.

Equally quietly, some of them end.

People arrive without invitation, rearrange your life with astonishing efficiency, and depart just as you begin to believe they have always belonged there. I have long suspected there should be a railway timetable for such people. It would save everyone a good deal of emotional confusion.

Such, however, is life. It rarely consults us before altering the cast.

One series reminded me that a Guru can change the course of a life.

The other reminded me that fellow travellers can do precisely the same thing.

I recommend both. Preferably with a cup of tea and sufficient time. Or, if you are feeling slightly more adventurous, make yourself some garlic bread, add a generous helping of mature Cheddar cheese, and enjoy it with a bunch of grapes—my favourite meal. Use sourdough if you really want to do it properly. Above all, resist the temptation to check your office email. It has an uncanny habit of waiting patiently until Monday.