‘This is it?’ This is the first thought that struck me, as I entered into the Courtroom. It’s a haven, a place that’s almost sacred for the students in the legal field. So when I entered a Courtroom for the first time in my life, I had expected some intense feeling to overpower me. Some ancient wisdom to whisper in my ears. Some wonderful sensation to wash over me, to tell me this is where the greatest miracles take place. But all I thought was- ‘This is it?’
Bollywood is a bad teacher. So are, in a way, law schools. It impresses on your young little head that Courtrooms are huge rooms, furnished with large spacious seating arrangements and perfectly polished hardwood podiums and witness boxes. And of course, with lots of AIRs and SCCs in neatly stacked piles and the formidable white clock and the Father of the Nation staring down at the proceedings. Somehow, however, the Sessions Court is nothing like this. Mahatma Gandhi may have a road named after him in almost every city in India, but I am yet to meet him in a Courtroom. The podium is old, wood chipping out at odd angles, making me worry about the expensive blazers of the lawyers. The seating is limited, and by it, I mean you have to seriously consider the number of family members you’re planning to bring in for support, unless they’re cool with sitting on the crooked benches outside. The concealed wiring is all over the walls, questioning the ‘concealed’ bit of it. The method of escorting accused persons to their respective Courtrooms- by tying a thick rope on their arms and a Police Officer clutching the other end of the rope- reminds you of the way cows and buffaloes are treated, making the system plain inhuman. In fact, on Day One, the sheer number of criminals and Policemen around freaked me out. The cops on the other hand, are never the lean and mean types. They appear like contestants for the show ‘Biggest Loser Jeetega’ and the tight belt stretched across their Santa Claus bellies is almost painful to watch. Then again, lawyers aren’t the short and crisp types, like their B-wood counterparts. Moots have got this part right. Lawyers are a talkative lot. Their opening statements, final arguments, bail applications are all long winded and its funny to think that the material they base their talks are on are known as ‘briefs’.
Another thing that I learned in my internship is that real-time is scary. In the safe confines of fake cases, blood and gore might seem to be my bread and butter. Mohan the servant and Anamika the accused might seem to be fun to cross-question because I know once the court official raises the ‘TIME UP’ placard, Mohan and Anamika will become Sushant and Ritika, the first year-ites whom I absolutely adore. But in the Court room, Varsha (name changed) will always remain the woman whose husband was killed was by his own brother-in-law in a marriage function. So I wile away time with Sushil, a guy who has been accused under the Domestic Violence Act. It’s easier to ask him what was wrong with the marriage, instead of posing the same question to Varsha. It is somehow comforting to go through the Applicant’s reply and point out the flaws to him than to simply meet her and get an affidavit made. When its real life, even the thought that murder is sensational and interesting feels cold and lifeless.
The Family Court has been the other place that I have frequented in the past few days. This place, again, has a character of its own. I am not yet adept at finding my way around the premises, but FC is the easily identifiable, distinct area with green shades. What is alluring about FC is the high performance drama which forms a part of the staple diet of the hearings. One of the Court Officials here has a ridiculous sing-song voice in which he announces the names of the cases up for hearing, as if it’s his own little mechanism of beating the boredom in a place where he has to call out random names all day. Then again, the names are called out as ‘Rohini-Sohan’ or ‘Shirish-Manasi’. It feels strange when people who have lined up for divorce or to fight for custody have their names called out together, leaving out the ‘versus.’ It’s almost like a strange intimacy still remains between them. Everything in FC has way too much emotion. Lawyers arguing here ask for custody urging the Court ‘to understand the emotional condition of the child’; parties often break down in full view of the Court; wife accuse husbands to be emotional torturers and husbands state that their wives are mentally unstable.
In fact, these savagely fighting couples make me question the entire purpose of counseling. That reminds me, the Counselor’s office has a story of its own. The outside board proclaims lunch hour in bold letters, making it clear that between 1:00-2:00, we don’t care what happens to your marriage. You have been fighting for a year, another hour won’t kill you. There also happen to be a number of married women who work as councilors. I wonder what they counsel on the days they have a heated argument with the hubby!
Finally, the notice board outside the office states ‘Papa, Mummy & kid create family, Missing any of them, Makes picture incomplete.’ Maybe this explains why arguments in courtroom seem like a constant flipping of channels between Star Movies and Zee Marathi. The fat Court diaries, the faded files, the-ten-rupees-a-bunch tags and the white collar that strangely resembles Veet waxing strips may not conform to our beliefs of the classic Courtroom setup we’ve grown up with. But as days go by, I realize that for all its faults, it actually is the place where miracles happen, where people end up getting justice and have their faith rewarded. It may not be perfect, but it is Indian Judiciary in action.
And in it, I see my future.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
A Lonely Night...
I officially removed the song ‘Lonely’ from my playlist. Whenever Akon crooned that number, it filled me with an intense despair and hopelessness. It was almost like life comes to a jarring halt if you ever end up being lonely. But today, I am considering adding that song to my playlist once again. Because, as I just realized, being lonely is not that hopeless after all…
Today, by some weird twist and turn of events, it just so happened that things didn’t work out and by the time it was evening, I had no idea where or with whom I was going to dine. I, like the innumerable Pune-hostelites-and-sick-of-the-mess students, recognize the greatness of the mess being closed on Sunday evening, giving us some much needed relief. It’s a custom in almost all mess in Pune and therefore, Sunday dinner is a genuine cause of celebration. And as it an be well predicted, away from the shackles of that disgusting food, its another custom for kids here to meet up their friends and load their stomachs with as much McD fries and Dominoes Pizzas as possible; at least enough to help them sustain till the next glorious Sunday. And this has been my routine as well, for as long as I can remember. That is, until today…
I think it goes without saying that I wasn’t thrilled to spend a Sunday evening all by myself. So, I killed time watching ‘You’ve got Mail’, until the rats in my stomach started with the usual trapeze routine. It signaled dinner, so changing into something more presentable than pyjamas, I left the room. The destination? FC Road, of course. It’s always filled to the brim with people and clothes and sandals and ice-cream stalls. It’s just so hard to feel lonely there. And true to its reputation, FC made me feel like a part of a huge crowd.
What surprised me is the number of things I noticed today. They’ve always been there, every time I’ve been to that place. But they never caught my attention. They never seemed noteworthy. I had never been aware of the conspiratory smile the guy from Iceberg soda gives when you ask for a Fruit Beer… of the young girls, who in the middle of a perfectly normal conversation, suddenly notice a clip or a bangle and realize that life is incomplete without that little thing… of the fact that majority of the people sitting in the Chocolate Room wear XL clothes… of the couples, who are like duplicates of each other, sharing ice-creams or holding hands, but still manage to look cute… of the people who are perfectly well-to-do but will still haggle over ten bucks with the roadside vendor… of the momo guy, who has more customers than all the multiplex momo centres put together but never loses his chinki smile… of the weird mentality of people because of which they prefer cheap clothes over cheap books… of the ladies, who are so busy looking at the shoe display on the walls that they often bump into each other… of the fact that people will get hyper irritated in billing lines in malls but are ready to stand for the better part of an hour when it comes to a chocolate toast… of the simple, little things, like paani-puri and chaat stalls will never be passé or go out of business…
I know it’s hard for you to not think that I had a miserable time and I am trying to pass it off as a wonderful day by writing this piece. Truth be told, it’s more like the Pune traffic… If you stand on the side waiting for the traffic to stop so that you can cross the road, you’ll probably end up stranded on the side the entire night. You’ve to have faith and take the plunge. You’ve to start walking and you’ll see the vehicles making way for you. Same way, you’ve to let go of the comfort of your close knit group and spend a day alone. Maybe, like me, you’ll end up seeing the things that were always in front of your eyes but never really made it to your retina…
So now I know, Akon has overrated the fears of being lonely. It’s not even halfway as bad as he makes it sound. Give up the security of your little group and give yourself a chance to become a part of the city, the society and the world as a whole… Because, the most amazing things happen when you are least expecting them…
Hold that thought!!
Today, by some weird twist and turn of events, it just so happened that things didn’t work out and by the time it was evening, I had no idea where or with whom I was going to dine. I, like the innumerable Pune-hostelites-and-sick-of-the-mess students, recognize the greatness of the mess being closed on Sunday evening, giving us some much needed relief. It’s a custom in almost all mess in Pune and therefore, Sunday dinner is a genuine cause of celebration. And as it an be well predicted, away from the shackles of that disgusting food, its another custom for kids here to meet up their friends and load their stomachs with as much McD fries and Dominoes Pizzas as possible; at least enough to help them sustain till the next glorious Sunday. And this has been my routine as well, for as long as I can remember. That is, until today…
I think it goes without saying that I wasn’t thrilled to spend a Sunday evening all by myself. So, I killed time watching ‘You’ve got Mail’, until the rats in my stomach started with the usual trapeze routine. It signaled dinner, so changing into something more presentable than pyjamas, I left the room. The destination? FC Road, of course. It’s always filled to the brim with people and clothes and sandals and ice-cream stalls. It’s just so hard to feel lonely there. And true to its reputation, FC made me feel like a part of a huge crowd.
What surprised me is the number of things I noticed today. They’ve always been there, every time I’ve been to that place. But they never caught my attention. They never seemed noteworthy. I had never been aware of the conspiratory smile the guy from Iceberg soda gives when you ask for a Fruit Beer… of the young girls, who in the middle of a perfectly normal conversation, suddenly notice a clip or a bangle and realize that life is incomplete without that little thing… of the fact that majority of the people sitting in the Chocolate Room wear XL clothes… of the couples, who are like duplicates of each other, sharing ice-creams or holding hands, but still manage to look cute… of the people who are perfectly well-to-do but will still haggle over ten bucks with the roadside vendor… of the momo guy, who has more customers than all the multiplex momo centres put together but never loses his chinki smile… of the weird mentality of people because of which they prefer cheap clothes over cheap books… of the ladies, who are so busy looking at the shoe display on the walls that they often bump into each other… of the fact that people will get hyper irritated in billing lines in malls but are ready to stand for the better part of an hour when it comes to a chocolate toast… of the simple, little things, like paani-puri and chaat stalls will never be passé or go out of business…
I know it’s hard for you to not think that I had a miserable time and I am trying to pass it off as a wonderful day by writing this piece. Truth be told, it’s more like the Pune traffic… If you stand on the side waiting for the traffic to stop so that you can cross the road, you’ll probably end up stranded on the side the entire night. You’ve to have faith and take the plunge. You’ve to start walking and you’ll see the vehicles making way for you. Same way, you’ve to let go of the comfort of your close knit group and spend a day alone. Maybe, like me, you’ll end up seeing the things that were always in front of your eyes but never really made it to your retina…
So now I know, Akon has overrated the fears of being lonely. It’s not even halfway as bad as he makes it sound. Give up the security of your little group and give yourself a chance to become a part of the city, the society and the world as a whole… Because, the most amazing things happen when you are least expecting them…
Hold that thought!!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Life's Twilight...
Pune weather is unpredictability personified. It can be humid in the morning, raining by mid morning, blazing hot in the afternoon, balmy in the evening and teeth-chattering cold by night. Yes, variety is the spice of life, so the weather Gods can be said to be biased in giving Pune-ites some extra spice to their everyday life. But the only problem is the choice of clothing. Oh no don’t worry, this is not about weather conditions or dressing tips, my blog won’t end up being THAT lame! Anyway, on the day I am writing about, I decided to wear a very smart synthetic kurti judging by the cloudy morning… But as the weather Gods would have it, the Sun came out in all its might by afternoon. So standing in the auto stand and cursing everything around me, especially the non-availability of AC cars when you live in hostels, I was pretty much oblivious to everything around me. Suddenly this short, stooped and aged lady in a navari saree murmered something to me. I couldn’t catch what she said in my first go so I bent down to her level and extended my ear. This time I heard her words. “Majha konich nahi aahe…” (I have no one). And I, the proud student of ILS, the person with the mindset that lawyers have smart replies for every statement, stood there, motionless, dumbfounded…
Oxford Dictionary cannot probably come up with a word for describing how exactly I felt that moment. What do you say at such a statement? Do you ask her where she lives, what she wants or is there anything you can do for her? Do you assure her that her family or kids or someone will come for her? Do you call up someone and ask for help? Whom do you call? Or do you end up giving fake assurance that you are there for her whereas you know point-blank that you’ll leave as soon as you get an auto? Do you try and talk about what’s wrong with her? Or do you brush her off, thinking of her as yet another case of senility on the loose? Or do you, like me, just act like you don’t really understand the language and wait till she goes away?
What do we all think when we picture our future? I cannot possibly write for the enlightened souls, but I picture myself as a successful lawyer… gifting my Dad his fave MacBook and Mom all those fabulous jewelry she sets her eyes on at Tanishq… marrying a smart, intelligent, sensitive, funny and cute guy… having a beautiful child, my own flesh and blood… growing old, retiring from work and teaching Criminal Law at some big shot University. It is amusing how I never think of how much can go wrong in my plan. I always consider my plan to be flawless… and why not? I’ve carefully calculated the age for everything and figured out how everything is going to turn out. But I never think that I have based every shred of planning on the simple assumption that life is going to be kind to me. Now that I think of it, how can I be so foolish, so juvenile? I so proudly claim that I’m 19 now; coming to an end of my teens and my hostel life has made me all practical and mature. Mature? Hasn’t 19 years of life not taught me anything? Life is never kind… it’s never good… it’s never perfect… and most importantly, it never ever goes according to what you plan! But here I am, happily in my make-believe world, my fool’s paradise, believing that if your plan is perfect, that is how your life will end up as well. It is scary to think about it even now, but I might just end up as that lady on the road. How come this thought never even crossed my mind?
Am I ashamed of what I did that fateful day? Yes, I sure am. But I still can’t fathom what else I could have done. All I feel is that I wish I could do something more substantial, more meaningful. And I also can’t stop wondering what happened to her… how she ended up wherever she is today. I can’t stop thinking where her husband and children are and why they’ve abandoned the lady. I so hope I could have done something… anything for her. You may think that this is India, hundreds of such abandoned ladies are probably hovering aimlessly on the roads. True… very true. But not every one of them come and tell me, “Majha konich nahi aahe”…
I am very sorry I couldn’t do anything for you. I just remember you in my prayer. And I’ve never more strongly hoped that my prayers are heard…
Oxford Dictionary cannot probably come up with a word for describing how exactly I felt that moment. What do you say at such a statement? Do you ask her where she lives, what she wants or is there anything you can do for her? Do you assure her that her family or kids or someone will come for her? Do you call up someone and ask for help? Whom do you call? Or do you end up giving fake assurance that you are there for her whereas you know point-blank that you’ll leave as soon as you get an auto? Do you try and talk about what’s wrong with her? Or do you brush her off, thinking of her as yet another case of senility on the loose? Or do you, like me, just act like you don’t really understand the language and wait till she goes away?
What do we all think when we picture our future? I cannot possibly write for the enlightened souls, but I picture myself as a successful lawyer… gifting my Dad his fave MacBook and Mom all those fabulous jewelry she sets her eyes on at Tanishq… marrying a smart, intelligent, sensitive, funny and cute guy… having a beautiful child, my own flesh and blood… growing old, retiring from work and teaching Criminal Law at some big shot University. It is amusing how I never think of how much can go wrong in my plan. I always consider my plan to be flawless… and why not? I’ve carefully calculated the age for everything and figured out how everything is going to turn out. But I never think that I have based every shred of planning on the simple assumption that life is going to be kind to me. Now that I think of it, how can I be so foolish, so juvenile? I so proudly claim that I’m 19 now; coming to an end of my teens and my hostel life has made me all practical and mature. Mature? Hasn’t 19 years of life not taught me anything? Life is never kind… it’s never good… it’s never perfect… and most importantly, it never ever goes according to what you plan! But here I am, happily in my make-believe world, my fool’s paradise, believing that if your plan is perfect, that is how your life will end up as well. It is scary to think about it even now, but I might just end up as that lady on the road. How come this thought never even crossed my mind?
Am I ashamed of what I did that fateful day? Yes, I sure am. But I still can’t fathom what else I could have done. All I feel is that I wish I could do something more substantial, more meaningful. And I also can’t stop wondering what happened to her… how she ended up wherever she is today. I can’t stop thinking where her husband and children are and why they’ve abandoned the lady. I so hope I could have done something… anything for her. You may think that this is India, hundreds of such abandoned ladies are probably hovering aimlessly on the roads. True… very true. But not every one of them come and tell me, “Majha konich nahi aahe”…
I am very sorry I couldn’t do anything for you. I just remember you in my prayer. And I’ve never more strongly hoped that my prayers are heard…
Thursday, August 5, 2010
I walk a lonely road...
“Ek masala dosa” shouted the guy at the canteen counter. His harsh voice snapped me out of my reverie. How long had I been oblivious to the world around me? Five minutes. Usually any order placed in the ILS Canteen takes a minimum fifteen minutes ‘preparation time’. And usually I found the wait irritating. But today, the quick delivery irritated me. I had shut myself to the people around me, to the blur of faces swirling around me, to the merry cheer and chatter of the happy souls around me… I had numbed the pain with much difficulty… But it was not meant to be. I had to open my eyes. I had to look around my table. I had to register that for the first time, I was having lunch… alone!!
When it’s not your time, everything goes against you. Who was the smartass who propounded these words of wisdom? I agree with him completely and at the same time hate him for being so right. I didn’t see any friendly faces around with whom I could share a word… I miserably missed the hundred hands that tore the dosa from my plate… I didn’t even have my ear-phones so that I could hear some horribly loud track by “Bullet for my Valentine’ or ‘Infected Mushrooms’ to mute the world around me. Forcibly, I was asked to look at the world around me and be insanely jealous of them- jealous of the first year-ites in huge groups cracking stupid jokes and laughing their heart out; jealous of the gang of giggly girls who were so derilously happy to share a meal at the Canteen as if they were being given a free treat at ‘Soho’; jealous of the group of seniors who had covered the entire table with important looking documents and were sharing comments which can seem funny only to a law student! What had they done right and I had done wrong? Why does everyone have someone by their side and why am I so alone?
But someone intruded on my self pity-party. The intruder came with a loud vibration- It was an SMS which said ‘@kk!’. It said “Hey wassup? Class over? How was your orientation? Had lunch?” Simple, regular text? No way! It brought in a smile… it brought in a ray of hope… it brought the feeling that I was not as big a failure in the ‘friends department’ as I thought myself to be. And then the ILS Canteen, living upto its reputation of playing the exact song for the mood you are in, played the song from ‘Ta ra rum pum’- Raat hai toh savera bhi hoga! And as I imagined Shona from the movie with her bright smile in difficult times, a wave of tremendous hope washed over me. It truly is surprising when hardly realistic Bollywood moments actually inspire you.
But this time, it actually made me feel stronger. It actually brought out the optimist in me. Screw you all, I’ll bounce back, big time and better than before. Yes, if there is darkness there has to be light. Morning has to come, no matter how long the night.
This time again it’s not you… It’s me who has to hold that thought!!!
When it’s not your time, everything goes against you. Who was the smartass who propounded these words of wisdom? I agree with him completely and at the same time hate him for being so right. I didn’t see any friendly faces around with whom I could share a word… I miserably missed the hundred hands that tore the dosa from my plate… I didn’t even have my ear-phones so that I could hear some horribly loud track by “Bullet for my Valentine’ or ‘Infected Mushrooms’ to mute the world around me. Forcibly, I was asked to look at the world around me and be insanely jealous of them- jealous of the first year-ites in huge groups cracking stupid jokes and laughing their heart out; jealous of the gang of giggly girls who were so derilously happy to share a meal at the Canteen as if they were being given a free treat at ‘Soho’; jealous of the group of seniors who had covered the entire table with important looking documents and were sharing comments which can seem funny only to a law student! What had they done right and I had done wrong? Why does everyone have someone by their side and why am I so alone?
But someone intruded on my self pity-party. The intruder came with a loud vibration- It was an SMS which said ‘@kk!’. It said “Hey wassup? Class over? How was your orientation? Had lunch?” Simple, regular text? No way! It brought in a smile… it brought in a ray of hope… it brought the feeling that I was not as big a failure in the ‘friends department’ as I thought myself to be. And then the ILS Canteen, living upto its reputation of playing the exact song for the mood you are in, played the song from ‘Ta ra rum pum’- Raat hai toh savera bhi hoga! And as I imagined Shona from the movie with her bright smile in difficult times, a wave of tremendous hope washed over me. It truly is surprising when hardly realistic Bollywood moments actually inspire you.
But this time, it actually made me feel stronger. It actually brought out the optimist in me. Screw you all, I’ll bounce back, big time and better than before. Yes, if there is darkness there has to be light. Morning has to come, no matter how long the night.
This time again it’s not you… It’s me who has to hold that thought!!!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The Three Worlds...
“Its kinda funny how life can change, Can flip 180 in a matter of days”…..Back in high school when I had first heard this song, it seemed like a meaningless junk with great beats by BLUE. So, no matter, how foot tapping the music was, the lyrics went unnoticed and un-applauded. C’mon, who plays attention to such heavy duty lyrics, anyway, at that age? It was only after these very words became the story of my life that i really appreciated the song.
Hi and welcome to the third semester of ILS. And while the college building shows little change, (unsurprisingly, it must have been looking the same for the past 20 years) the aura has worn off. Its now, just a matter of getting up by 9, reaching college by 10, be the great brand of the clueless Indian student with a diligent expression for an hour, give your attendance(a few proxy too, if you can wiggle it)and then run back to the hostel to your warm awaiting bed. So, when college remains so predictable, what flips your life? Hostel, new hostel, of course.
The pity party has ended for me. I guess everyone I have talked to closely made me realize that most of them have a sob story. A colourful story of first year with someone they considered to be best friend ending up as their worst enemy. This must have made the most of us wary and skeptical of making friends. Yes, Pune can be a deceptive city. But what is life without the search for the right people and bump into with the wrong ones as speed breakers on the way?
Am I hinting that I have found the right ones? Well, I fervently hope so. Gargi and Nikita do seem right. yes, right now, they are my room mates. It is fascinating to live with them. Gargi is calm, quiet; serene…Niki is loud, bubbly, chirpy. Gargi is sweet and simple…Niki is smart and practical. Gargi is a slender lovely creature…Niki is a “floater” wearing ‘walk’aholic. I always thought I epitomized extremism. But, here I am, the intermediate, between two fabulous extremes. And take my word, I am loving it!
But prod beneath their sweet or sturdy surface, they are simple, uncomplicated girls with boundless emotions. Be it a head massage, a word of consolation, a good advice or simply, a glass of lemon Rasana, they have everything I need, on their fingertip, including their abundant affection. The talks flow easy…the laughs come easy. A few days of living together has bought in a closeness that is so not ‘staring-at-your-face’, its subtle but nonetheless ever-present.
And yet, what tops my love for this room, are the laughs. Whether it is me removing my lenses and burying my face (literally) inside the drawer to the sexually illiterate Gargi who makes the most amusing faces on my enlightening lecture to Niki, who looks at her blank laptop screen and says ‘look at her guts! This girl is trying to copy me”. I never knew life could be so hilarious until I had stepped into this room. Like Niki, says, in the fear of losing our mother planet, there are three worlds existing simulataneously in this room!
Thankfully, even Shilpi, Mahi and Swati stay here. They are the few successful relationships that I carry from my previous hostel. And it feels good to have them here. You guys know me – I call a spade a spade and I am pathetic at sugar coating facts. Be it between the long night chats, group discussions, group dinners, crazy songs, swinging on the terrace, watching soppy romantic flicks and heart to heart talks, I have come to adore you in my own strange way. You make me look forward to the future. You flipped my life 180 in a matter of days……….. I just cannot thank you enough!!!
And, since it is me, Nikita typing this out for you, well, welcome…HAHA <3
Hi and welcome to the third semester of ILS. And while the college building shows little change, (unsurprisingly, it must have been looking the same for the past 20 years) the aura has worn off. Its now, just a matter of getting up by 9, reaching college by 10, be the great brand of the clueless Indian student with a diligent expression for an hour, give your attendance(a few proxy too, if you can wiggle it)and then run back to the hostel to your warm awaiting bed. So, when college remains so predictable, what flips your life? Hostel, new hostel, of course.
The pity party has ended for me. I guess everyone I have talked to closely made me realize that most of them have a sob story. A colourful story of first year with someone they considered to be best friend ending up as their worst enemy. This must have made the most of us wary and skeptical of making friends. Yes, Pune can be a deceptive city. But what is life without the search for the right people and bump into with the wrong ones as speed breakers on the way?
Am I hinting that I have found the right ones? Well, I fervently hope so. Gargi and Nikita do seem right. yes, right now, they are my room mates. It is fascinating to live with them. Gargi is calm, quiet; serene…Niki is loud, bubbly, chirpy. Gargi is sweet and simple…Niki is smart and practical. Gargi is a slender lovely creature…Niki is a “floater” wearing ‘walk’aholic. I always thought I epitomized extremism. But, here I am, the intermediate, between two fabulous extremes. And take my word, I am loving it!
But prod beneath their sweet or sturdy surface, they are simple, uncomplicated girls with boundless emotions. Be it a head massage, a word of consolation, a good advice or simply, a glass of lemon Rasana, they have everything I need, on their fingertip, including their abundant affection. The talks flow easy…the laughs come easy. A few days of living together has bought in a closeness that is so not ‘staring-at-your-face’, its subtle but nonetheless ever-present.
And yet, what tops my love for this room, are the laughs. Whether it is me removing my lenses and burying my face (literally) inside the drawer to the sexually illiterate Gargi who makes the most amusing faces on my enlightening lecture to Niki, who looks at her blank laptop screen and says ‘look at her guts! This girl is trying to copy me”. I never knew life could be so hilarious until I had stepped into this room. Like Niki, says, in the fear of losing our mother planet, there are three worlds existing simulataneously in this room!
Thankfully, even Shilpi, Mahi and Swati stay here. They are the few successful relationships that I carry from my previous hostel. And it feels good to have them here. You guys know me – I call a spade a spade and I am pathetic at sugar coating facts. Be it between the long night chats, group discussions, group dinners, crazy songs, swinging on the terrace, watching soppy romantic flicks and heart to heart talks, I have come to adore you in my own strange way. You make me look forward to the future. You flipped my life 180 in a matter of days……….. I just cannot thank you enough!!!
And, since it is me, Nikita typing this out for you, well, welcome…HAHA <3
Sunday, June 20, 2010
And the Geeks shall inherit the Earth!!
Yesterday, I bought what I thought was a pretty terrific notebook… it had a geeky cover, consisting of binary speaking cartoons with Ctrl, Alt, Del in his brain, Facebook, Star Wars and other computer crazy things that impresses a select few. When I proudly exhibited it to my friend, she said “Nice!” whereas every feature on her face said otherwise. “What?” I asked, “Isn’t it cool?” “Not really” she confessed… “It’s so geek!!” I stared at her with a confused ‘so what?’ expression. She explained exasperated, “If you carry that around, everyone’s gonna think you’re this weird nerd!!”
I quickly connected the net for some Wiki-wisdom. No matter how much people slam Wikipedia for its lack of authenticity, I find it a really reliable site for quick clarifications. The most acceptable definition said:-
A person with a devotion to something in a way that places him or her outside the mainstream. This could be due to the intensity, depth, or subject of their interest. This definition is very broad but because many of these interests have mainstream endorsement and acceptance, the inclusion of some genres as "geeky" is heavily debated. Persons have been labeled as or chosen to identify as physics geeks, mathematics geeks, engineering geeks, sci-fi geeks, computer geeks, various science geeks, movie and film geeks (cinephile), comic book geeks, theater geeks, history geeks, music geeks, art geeks, philosophy geeks, literature geeks, historical reenactment geeks, 2012 geeks, video game geeks, and roleplay geeks. It didn’t sound so despicable that people should shy away from being called one. In fact, geeks sounded like eccentric, erratic people with an obsession that makes them outstanding in their field. To tell you the truth, it sounded like something of a prelude to a genius. But while genius is a much desired tag, geek stands as a derogatory one. It’s like appreciating the butterfly but calling the caterpillar disgusting. But if there were no caterpillars, where would the beautiful butterflies come from?
It is frustrating when your elders slam you as immature. But at times, I tend to agree with my Dad on this issue. We teenagers, with a not-fully-developed frontal cortex, do tend to exhibit truly amusing behavioral patterns. And what would top the list is our definition of cool. Going to insane reality shows is cool. Fooling around with five girlfriends is cool. Smoking cigarettes and taking drugs is cool. Wasting millions on high profile parties is cool. Attending IPL parties is cool. Buying branded, pricey clothes right out of fashion mags is cool. Going around in swanky cars is cool. But studying? It’s oh-so-uncool! Sitting in the library? Staying up late night to research something you find fascinating? Missing movies in pursuit of creativity? Disregarding parties to make projects for the fun of it? If you have dared to do any of these in front of your college friends, you are instantly labeled the class nerd… the dweeb who’ll never get a girl and whom the guys will never invite for the late night beer parties.
In spite of this, the geeks battle on. To do what they love. It takes real courage to disregard peer pressure and pursue your interest. All you ‘cool’ people out there, next time you slam a geek, I hope you realize he is a guy who is a deviant; who, unlike you, has refused to be run-of-the-mill. Just because he is quiet doesn’t mean he is a loser. He has got ten times the courage and guts as compared to you. And all you geeks, be proud. Put on those techno geek wallpapers and join those Art geeks clubs with zero hesitation… because, when night will fall on these teenage days, you will emerge as the brightest star!
Hold that thought!!
I quickly connected the net for some Wiki-wisdom. No matter how much people slam Wikipedia for its lack of authenticity, I find it a really reliable site for quick clarifications. The most acceptable definition said:-
A person with a devotion to something in a way that places him or her outside the mainstream. This could be due to the intensity, depth, or subject of their interest. This definition is very broad but because many of these interests have mainstream endorsement and acceptance, the inclusion of some genres as "geeky" is heavily debated. Persons have been labeled as or chosen to identify as physics geeks, mathematics geeks, engineering geeks, sci-fi geeks, computer geeks, various science geeks, movie and film geeks (cinephile), comic book geeks, theater geeks, history geeks, music geeks, art geeks, philosophy geeks, literature geeks, historical reenactment geeks, 2012 geeks, video game geeks, and roleplay geeks. It didn’t sound so despicable that people should shy away from being called one. In fact, geeks sounded like eccentric, erratic people with an obsession that makes them outstanding in their field. To tell you the truth, it sounded like something of a prelude to a genius. But while genius is a much desired tag, geek stands as a derogatory one. It’s like appreciating the butterfly but calling the caterpillar disgusting. But if there were no caterpillars, where would the beautiful butterflies come from?
It is frustrating when your elders slam you as immature. But at times, I tend to agree with my Dad on this issue. We teenagers, with a not-fully-developed frontal cortex, do tend to exhibit truly amusing behavioral patterns. And what would top the list is our definition of cool. Going to insane reality shows is cool. Fooling around with five girlfriends is cool. Smoking cigarettes and taking drugs is cool. Wasting millions on high profile parties is cool. Attending IPL parties is cool. Buying branded, pricey clothes right out of fashion mags is cool. Going around in swanky cars is cool. But studying? It’s oh-so-uncool! Sitting in the library? Staying up late night to research something you find fascinating? Missing movies in pursuit of creativity? Disregarding parties to make projects for the fun of it? If you have dared to do any of these in front of your college friends, you are instantly labeled the class nerd… the dweeb who’ll never get a girl and whom the guys will never invite for the late night beer parties.
In spite of this, the geeks battle on. To do what they love. It takes real courage to disregard peer pressure and pursue your interest. All you ‘cool’ people out there, next time you slam a geek, I hope you realize he is a guy who is a deviant; who, unlike you, has refused to be run-of-the-mill. Just because he is quiet doesn’t mean he is a loser. He has got ten times the courage and guts as compared to you. And all you geeks, be proud. Put on those techno geek wallpapers and join those Art geeks clubs with zero hesitation… because, when night will fall on these teenage days, you will emerge as the brightest star!
Hold that thought!!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Defining YOUTH in my words...
“As we all know, college is not just about books and studies,” read the opening lines of an article in a major newspaper. “What one wears is important too.” Really? And then the article went on and on about how to layer your dresses, wear ganjis this season, printed leggings, colorful flip flops and a whole arena of clothing articles that I cant make heads or tails of. Nothing offensive. What you don’t know cant hurt you, right? But what made me want to claw my face off were the pictures accompanying the article. Girls wearing yellow skirts that have the word ‘Yellow’ printed over it, bags that I would have felt embarrassed to carry even in my kindergarten years, pink shoes that look like cheap plastic, three-inches gladiator sandals that would make any kind of movement a potential hazard. But hey, according to designers, this is what students are supposed to wear to college this season. This is fashion. This is youth!!
The cynical me finds it irritating. The not-so-critical me finds it fascinating. TV channels and designers and a similar army of people have decided what the ‘youth’ is. They are a bunch of airheads who eat pricey pizzas, down it with a bottle of Carlsberg, throw around their money at CCDs, buy useless CDs of English songs without understanding a word, watches Roadies, Splitsvilla, finds love on shows like ‘Dare to Date’ and then spy on them through shows like’ Emotional Atyachar’!!! Brilliant! It is amusing to see the generation that will grow up to define the future of India is defined with such shallow parameters. Youth special shows mean blonde babes singing mindless songs in skimpy clothes. Shows like Roadies think the youth is about doing a few tasks and playing lots of tedious politics; and of course pepper it with occasional outbursts and the catfights make the icing on the cake. Splitsvilla thinks it can script love between a couple of teens and twenty somethings roaming around in scanty clothes and plotting petty plans. And why not? The people who win these shows are overnight sensations… and worse, youth icons!!
What amaze me are people who cannot tell the name of the guy who suggested the theory of evolution or the not-so-beautiful chicks who don’t even know what the Booker prize is associated with can shamelessly claim themselves to be youth icons. Or this crazy female who’s 21 years old goes and sits in a village in her designer clothes claiming to be ‘Desi Girl’ thinks she is the face of the new India. Truthfully, if they are the people who will define what the Indian youth is, I would rather be 50 years old right away. Youth is not about what MTV or Channel V tells us. Youth is not about Youngistan or any such funky name like that. Youth is about normal kids like us. People who sit in canteens and debate whether communism should continue its hold over Bengal and Kerala or should people rebel against it? People who take up ‘Rights of Third Gender’ diploma courses, not about people who say a kind word or two about them just to see their names in print. People who decide to be politicians, to cleanse up the political machinery of the country. People who intern in NGOs not because it will look good on their CV but because they really think that they can make a difference. People who miss their lunch to watch documentaries about how the Bhopal Gas Tragedy affected millions in the county, even before the blame games and mud slinging starts. People who blog, write columns or letters to editors on current issues affecting the world in their bid to bring in a change. People who would rather watch a thought provoking movie than a slapstick humorous one. People like you and me. We represent the youth.
Don’t get me wrong. I never said I don’t go to Pizza Hut or never spent money on CCD. What I mean is, I refuse these things to be the only part of my personality. I refuse to have my contemporaries get judged in the name of crazy designers or hip coffee houses. There is more to us. A lot more. Most importantly, our ‘youth icons’ may not have a brain. But we do. And we also know how to use one. I am the youth. And I don’t think anyone can do justice to who I am and what I think. I dare to take a stand for what I think is right. And I stand up today to represent myself. Youth is, after all, just a moment, but it the moment, the spark, that you will always carry in your heart!!
Hold that thought!
The cynical me finds it irritating. The not-so-critical me finds it fascinating. TV channels and designers and a similar army of people have decided what the ‘youth’ is. They are a bunch of airheads who eat pricey pizzas, down it with a bottle of Carlsberg, throw around their money at CCDs, buy useless CDs of English songs without understanding a word, watches Roadies, Splitsvilla, finds love on shows like ‘Dare to Date’ and then spy on them through shows like’ Emotional Atyachar’!!! Brilliant! It is amusing to see the generation that will grow up to define the future of India is defined with such shallow parameters. Youth special shows mean blonde babes singing mindless songs in skimpy clothes. Shows like Roadies think the youth is about doing a few tasks and playing lots of tedious politics; and of course pepper it with occasional outbursts and the catfights make the icing on the cake. Splitsvilla thinks it can script love between a couple of teens and twenty somethings roaming around in scanty clothes and plotting petty plans. And why not? The people who win these shows are overnight sensations… and worse, youth icons!!
What amaze me are people who cannot tell the name of the guy who suggested the theory of evolution or the not-so-beautiful chicks who don’t even know what the Booker prize is associated with can shamelessly claim themselves to be youth icons. Or this crazy female who’s 21 years old goes and sits in a village in her designer clothes claiming to be ‘Desi Girl’ thinks she is the face of the new India. Truthfully, if they are the people who will define what the Indian youth is, I would rather be 50 years old right away. Youth is not about what MTV or Channel V tells us. Youth is not about Youngistan or any such funky name like that. Youth is about normal kids like us. People who sit in canteens and debate whether communism should continue its hold over Bengal and Kerala or should people rebel against it? People who take up ‘Rights of Third Gender’ diploma courses, not about people who say a kind word or two about them just to see their names in print. People who decide to be politicians, to cleanse up the political machinery of the country. People who intern in NGOs not because it will look good on their CV but because they really think that they can make a difference. People who miss their lunch to watch documentaries about how the Bhopal Gas Tragedy affected millions in the county, even before the blame games and mud slinging starts. People who blog, write columns or letters to editors on current issues affecting the world in their bid to bring in a change. People who would rather watch a thought provoking movie than a slapstick humorous one. People like you and me. We represent the youth.
Don’t get me wrong. I never said I don’t go to Pizza Hut or never spent money on CCD. What I mean is, I refuse these things to be the only part of my personality. I refuse to have my contemporaries get judged in the name of crazy designers or hip coffee houses. There is more to us. A lot more. Most importantly, our ‘youth icons’ may not have a brain. But we do. And we also know how to use one. I am the youth. And I don’t think anyone can do justice to who I am and what I think. I dare to take a stand for what I think is right. And I stand up today to represent myself. Youth is, after all, just a moment, but it the moment, the spark, that you will always carry in your heart!!
Hold that thought!
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