<p>Things tend to evaporate pretty quickly in Mandalay. Energy, excitement, enthusiasm, and, most of all, water. However, once the initial flurry of activities that one usually associates with moving to a new place has subsided, a certain calm seems to take over, and, if you let it, the city begins to grow on you. Perhaps it is the unhurried pace of life here, a pace even more measured, deliberate, and, dare I say it, meditative than the smaller towns and cities in India. I suspect it is the people.</p>.<p>Since the warm weather in Mandalay beats any kind of nervous energy into submission, this lethargic city is more amenable to meandering thoughts than anything hi-tech. Caught up in the tsunami of globalisation, Myanmar’s cities and people are rapidly losing their identity. Now, everyone has a smartphone, and the Myanmar Armed Forces (‘Tatmadaw’) are in control.</p>.<p>My reason to be here, an institute that is meant to replicate the best practices in Indian IT education, is just one symbol of that standardisation. Change is also evident in the city’s chaotic traffic, the pollution masks that some of the somewhat affluent sport, the perpetually busy department store next door, and the garbage heaps that I have now come to associate with all rapidly expanding cities.</p>.<p>During the first two weeks here, I only interacted with first year students, mostly 16 or 17-year-olds, almost all of whom were quite fragile, but addicted to their smartphones. Since students in Myanmar have not been encouraged to question what is taught, curiosity becomes the first casualty. The English language serves as an additional barrier. Myanmar students surpass their Indian peers in rote learning, and teachers are accorded so much respect that it is unnerving.</p>.<p>One of the most fascinating things about this country is that everyone looks so serene. I have yet to come across a person who even looked mildly aggressive or rude. They all smile through <span class="italic"><em>paan</em></span>-stained teeth. My perception might be coloured by the fact that I am currently living in a gated community that is certainly not representative of the larger country. A fellow teacher told me that she had never been stared at in Myanmar and that she had no qualms about taking a taxi any time of the day since she felt perfectly safe.</p>.<p>I suspect that these traits have much to do with Buddhism. I mean, how can one maintain one’s composure when the most docile of us foreigners feel like killing every mosquito in the world while the Myanmar people merely smile and carry on. The large pools of standing water on campus are not treated with disinfectants. That, I am guessing, would be too violent an act. I find it difficult to reconcile such behaviour with the persecution of Rohingyas by militant Buddhists, backed by the Tatmadaw, in a different part of the country.</p>.<p>They cannot all be the same people, can they?</p>
<p>Things tend to evaporate pretty quickly in Mandalay. Energy, excitement, enthusiasm, and, most of all, water. However, once the initial flurry of activities that one usually associates with moving to a new place has subsided, a certain calm seems to take over, and, if you let it, the city begins to grow on you. Perhaps it is the unhurried pace of life here, a pace even more measured, deliberate, and, dare I say it, meditative than the smaller towns and cities in India. I suspect it is the people.</p>.<p>Since the warm weather in Mandalay beats any kind of nervous energy into submission, this lethargic city is more amenable to meandering thoughts than anything hi-tech. Caught up in the tsunami of globalisation, Myanmar’s cities and people are rapidly losing their identity. Now, everyone has a smartphone, and the Myanmar Armed Forces (‘Tatmadaw’) are in control.</p>.<p>My reason to be here, an institute that is meant to replicate the best practices in Indian IT education, is just one symbol of that standardisation. Change is also evident in the city’s chaotic traffic, the pollution masks that some of the somewhat affluent sport, the perpetually busy department store next door, and the garbage heaps that I have now come to associate with all rapidly expanding cities.</p>.<p>During the first two weeks here, I only interacted with first year students, mostly 16 or 17-year-olds, almost all of whom were quite fragile, but addicted to their smartphones. Since students in Myanmar have not been encouraged to question what is taught, curiosity becomes the first casualty. The English language serves as an additional barrier. Myanmar students surpass their Indian peers in rote learning, and teachers are accorded so much respect that it is unnerving.</p>.<p>One of the most fascinating things about this country is that everyone looks so serene. I have yet to come across a person who even looked mildly aggressive or rude. They all smile through <span class="italic"><em>paan</em></span>-stained teeth. My perception might be coloured by the fact that I am currently living in a gated community that is certainly not representative of the larger country. A fellow teacher told me that she had never been stared at in Myanmar and that she had no qualms about taking a taxi any time of the day since she felt perfectly safe.</p>.<p>I suspect that these traits have much to do with Buddhism. I mean, how can one maintain one’s composure when the most docile of us foreigners feel like killing every mosquito in the world while the Myanmar people merely smile and carry on. The large pools of standing water on campus are not treated with disinfectants. That, I am guessing, would be too violent an act. I find it difficult to reconcile such behaviour with the persecution of Rohingyas by militant Buddhists, backed by the Tatmadaw, in a different part of the country.</p>.<p>They cannot all be the same people, can they?</p>