Date: 2nd June 2006
Time: 19.15 hours
Weather: Pouring cats and dogs
Location: Room 204, Cauvery Hostel, National Law School
Anubhav, Tanmay, Harsha and I are chatting nonsense as usual. Anubhav is trying to sell his posters to juniors and make a quick buck. Arka walks in and makes a cutomary silly comment, this time relating to Anubhav's shark-like business acumen. I also learn that he will be around till the 7th. Then he walks out of the door. Anubhav follows him after a few minutes....
Date: 2nd June 2006
Time: 20.00 hours
Weather: Slight drizzle
Location: Nagarbhavi Circle, Bangalore. About half a kilometre from Law School.
I get off from Harsha's bike, heaving my bag across in the process. I turn to face him and extend my hand towards him. His hand grips mine as he says, "Bye da. It's been great having you as a roommate. All the best." I murmur similar words in reply. Then he says, "Quick! Give me a hug!" I comply. Then he takes a quick look over his shoulder, says "Bye" again and without a backward glance heads back the way we had just come. I walk slowly, lost deep in thought, towards the waiting autos....
Date: 3rd June 2006
Time: 19.25 hours
Weather: Overcast with a hint of rain
Location: My favourite couch in front of the TV at home
Dnyanesh messages me, "Dude where exactly is Ragoo's?" I reply and tell him the location of the restaurant in question. He replies, "Thanks. I am taking some juniors for a treat there. Thanks for introducing me to such a nice place to eat." The next morming, I try to call him but the recorded voice informs me that his number has been "temporarily" disconnected....
Date: 4th June 2006
Time: 13.00 hours
Weather: Fine and sunny
Anoop calls me and says, "Hey Swami, I'm off da. Best of luck and keep in touch"....
Date: 7th June 2006
Time: 13.30 hours
Weather: Baking hot
Tanmay messages, "Hey I'm on my way to the railway station." I immediately pick up my phone and call him. Both of us are obviously lost for words. We say, "So..." at least a dozen times apiece during the ten minute call. His train's at 2.30. He's on his way to the station. Yes, he's packed everything. Big luggage he's sent to Anubhav's dad's house in Delhi. I know all this already but it gives me airtime with Tanmay. At last, I say the final goodbye....
Friday, June 16, 2006
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
So Long, Farewell, Adieu.....
As I write this, it is slowly but surely sinking in that I have just one week of student life left. Like many things in life, this is an inevitability; but again like many things in life, it is not the happiest inevitability. I know it is coming one day, but I don't want that day to dawn. I also have not realised the passage of time until this morning, when two incidents occured which dropped on me with the force of a falling meteor.
Ajay casually asked me on our way to college, "When are your final presentations in corporate finance?" and when I replied, "Next Wednesday", he said, "Oh! I was hoping we could travel back together next week. But I have exams starting from Thursday, so I can't go home on Wednesday." I remained silent for a minute, because my mind suddenly raced over the four years of travelling we have done together. In four years we have discussed, argued, agreed upon, disagreed upon and debated just about everything under the sun from "hot" girls passing by on the road, to the possibility of life outside of the Earth, to every conceivable subject in law. Both of us have bunked innumerable classes just to return together when one of us was leaving early for some reason. I suddenly realised that one of my fondest memories of law school life - travelling with Ajay - was coming to an end. Monday morning will perhaps be our last ride together.
Then when I entered the Acad Block to attend class, "Yum" Bharat called to inform that class had been cancelled. Then when I called Tanmay, he said that there would be no more classes. The words "No More Classes" hit me like something fired out of a shotgun at point blank range. Five years of rushing to catch the bell, five years of managing attendance to just about reach the required 75%, five years of innovative bunking techniques, five years of SMS-ing in class, five years of chit-passing, five years of sleeping in class, five years of Snake and Bounce and F1 high scores, five years of heated (and largely irrelevant and nonsensical) arguments - they had all come down to this. No formal farewell, no official last class, no sentiment, no clamouring for a "free" hour, no vote of thanks to the teacher - nothing to indicate that our collective student lives are over. There is a time and place for everything, and this is the time and place for sentiment; but sadly, it hasn't been given an opportunity to present itself in the open.
It is true that I have spent most of my fifth year at home. It is true that I have antagonised approximately ten times more people than I have befriended in college. It is true that I have been one of the least enthusiastic persons in class as far as participation in "class" activities go. It is true that I am the butt of jokes for my utterly irrational, maverick and impulsive decisions regarding everything. Yet something binds me to this place, to my classmates, to my hostel mates, to my teachers, to the institution in general. I will miss organising and conducting the late night "crash courses" before any exam, I will miss my quisling-like activities during moot court selections, I will miss the "philosophical" discussions with people like Dnyanesh, I will miss making all those crazy and ill-timed points in class, I will miss the adrenaline flows during the final 24 hours before project submission, I will miss "flirting" with anyone female in college - hell, I will miss everything I ever did as a routine here.
Before my tear glands overflow, I want to look back upon what I have achieved here. On the positive side, I have achieved a moderate CGPA which ultimately got me a highly coveted job, reasonable success in moot court competitions which took me to one of the most prestigious national-level events, a subservience to the system which kept me in the good books of the faculty, a strong will power which helped me resist temptations, a wonderful world-view and maturity which has given me the strength and ability to live life, a strong moral base which is based on reason and tolerance, and finally, great friends who will be by my side through life. On the negative side, I have learnt how to "manage" the system which has reduced the value of hard work and perseverence in my eyes, I have acquired an arrogance and swagger for merely being a part of an "elite" institution as compared to others in more "mundane" colleges, I have made many enemies because of my wavering nature and selfishness, and as a result, I have become an introvert and a loner which makes me a very poor team player.
Now I have to put an end to this. Perhaps, years later, when the sentiment has died, I may find the patience to write some memoirs of my life in law school.
So long, farewell, adieu to you, my dear National Law School. It hasn't been an education, it has been an experience....
Ajay casually asked me on our way to college, "When are your final presentations in corporate finance?" and when I replied, "Next Wednesday", he said, "Oh! I was hoping we could travel back together next week. But I have exams starting from Thursday, so I can't go home on Wednesday." I remained silent for a minute, because my mind suddenly raced over the four years of travelling we have done together. In four years we have discussed, argued, agreed upon, disagreed upon and debated just about everything under the sun from "hot" girls passing by on the road, to the possibility of life outside of the Earth, to every conceivable subject in law. Both of us have bunked innumerable classes just to return together when one of us was leaving early for some reason. I suddenly realised that one of my fondest memories of law school life - travelling with Ajay - was coming to an end. Monday morning will perhaps be our last ride together.
Then when I entered the Acad Block to attend class, "Yum" Bharat called to inform that class had been cancelled. Then when I called Tanmay, he said that there would be no more classes. The words "No More Classes" hit me like something fired out of a shotgun at point blank range. Five years of rushing to catch the bell, five years of managing attendance to just about reach the required 75%, five years of innovative bunking techniques, five years of SMS-ing in class, five years of chit-passing, five years of sleeping in class, five years of Snake and Bounce and F1 high scores, five years of heated (and largely irrelevant and nonsensical) arguments - they had all come down to this. No formal farewell, no official last class, no sentiment, no clamouring for a "free" hour, no vote of thanks to the teacher - nothing to indicate that our collective student lives are over. There is a time and place for everything, and this is the time and place for sentiment; but sadly, it hasn't been given an opportunity to present itself in the open.
It is true that I have spent most of my fifth year at home. It is true that I have antagonised approximately ten times more people than I have befriended in college. It is true that I have been one of the least enthusiastic persons in class as far as participation in "class" activities go. It is true that I am the butt of jokes for my utterly irrational, maverick and impulsive decisions regarding everything. Yet something binds me to this place, to my classmates, to my hostel mates, to my teachers, to the institution in general. I will miss organising and conducting the late night "crash courses" before any exam, I will miss my quisling-like activities during moot court selections, I will miss the "philosophical" discussions with people like Dnyanesh, I will miss making all those crazy and ill-timed points in class, I will miss the adrenaline flows during the final 24 hours before project submission, I will miss "flirting" with anyone female in college - hell, I will miss everything I ever did as a routine here.
Before my tear glands overflow, I want to look back upon what I have achieved here. On the positive side, I have achieved a moderate CGPA which ultimately got me a highly coveted job, reasonable success in moot court competitions which took me to one of the most prestigious national-level events, a subservience to the system which kept me in the good books of the faculty, a strong will power which helped me resist temptations, a wonderful world-view and maturity which has given me the strength and ability to live life, a strong moral base which is based on reason and tolerance, and finally, great friends who will be by my side through life. On the negative side, I have learnt how to "manage" the system which has reduced the value of hard work and perseverence in my eyes, I have acquired an arrogance and swagger for merely being a part of an "elite" institution as compared to others in more "mundane" colleges, I have made many enemies because of my wavering nature and selfishness, and as a result, I have become an introvert and a loner which makes me a very poor team player.
Now I have to put an end to this. Perhaps, years later, when the sentiment has died, I may find the patience to write some memoirs of my life in law school.
So long, farewell, adieu to you, my dear National Law School. It hasn't been an education, it has been an experience....
Friday, May 12, 2006
Mumbo-Jumbo Mania
A pair of eyes gleamed at me through the incense smoke. After a gap of a second or so, a fine set of white teeth sparkled through the greyness. Then a disembodied voice said, "I am sorry. You are going through a bad phase now. Your planets have gone and misaligned themselves, bad boys that they are..." If I was looking for sympathy in that voice, my search would be in vain, for the voice hinted of untold pleasures and unmistakable glee. I let out my breath through pursed lips, disrupting the smoke's lazy ascent to the ceiling. Suddenly I noticed that beads of sweat were now collecting themselves into a mighty stream and had overcome the barrier of my eyebrows and were hovering on the tips of my eyelashes. I fished out the handkerchief and thwarted the attempts of the salty river to blind me.
My relief was palpable. Planetary misalignment was a mere trifle. Planets are obedient characters. A prayer or so would move mighty Jupiter back into his path and a few more prayers or a lamp or so would make the dangerous Saturn shed the extra ring or so. I had feared that something more sinister than planetary whims were at play behind my misfortunes, such as mortal human beings a hundred thousand millionth the size of these planets casting a spell on me. Spells are dreaded in this part of the world. A single spell would stop the favourable planet dead in his tracks and send Mr. Good Fortune packing. But planets... Bah! They are just pawns in the celestial game of chess that astrologers play.
Having made the statement of the day, the astrologer looked to me for deliverance. I spoke the words he was waiting to hear, "What is to be done?" The glint in his eye was replaced by a professional matter-of-fact look. He outlined his plans. A visit to an unheard-of temple in a nondescript village in the remotest part of the State, where he would invoke the Lord Saturn, followed by a feast to the villagers and generous offerings of food, clothing and other goodies such as jewellery to the priest (who would be one other than the present speaker, the astrologer). The plan seemed foolproof. I could get away with an expenditure of a few thousands of rupees. What's years of good fortune compared to a little loose change like this? I approved of the plan. Only the awareness of his position as a respectable astrologer prevented the man from jumping to the ceiling faster than the rising smoke and shouting, "Whoopee!"
Three weeks later, I had a nasty fight with my girlfriend and we broke up. Then the examination department of my college told me that I was dangerously close to falling short of attendance. The few Universities which I hoped would offer a seat to a moron like myself responded by invoking some technicalities and thus denied me admission. To add to the growing list, my boss called me up and said a monosyllabalic "No" to my request for a pay hike so that my joining the company would become meaningful. So that evening I stormed into the astrologer's house and confronted him with the situation. He gave me the look of a man who was expecting it all to happen.
Then the incense got the better of me. My reverance for the planets and the spells and all associated stuff returned with a bang. I waited until he rolled his dice and did some random mathematical calculations on the floor using a piece of chalk. In the meanwhile I weondered if I could also communicate with the planets by using the above-described methods, and whether couching these actions in scientific terms would win me one of the most famous patents in history. While I mused thus, the man finished his interplanetary voyage and prepared to speak. I was reminded of what some Shakespearan character told another about the Oracle and his listeners - that the listeners wait so anxiously for words of wisdom to flow from the mouth of the Oracle, but when the words do flow, the listeners feel like fools for having waited. I could now empathise with these ancient listeners and mulled over the fact that the practice of astrology hadn't changed over the millennia, the world over.
The man did speak eventually. The disembodied voice said, "You will have a bad time till the 26th of May. After that, you will have a good time. In the meanwhile, there is something you can do (with my help, of course)...." Shakespeare was so right. We listeners end up as fools. The Bard should take the place of these Oracles or astrologers or whatnot with his sharp prophetic insights. However, since Shakespeare died a few centuries ago, fools like me have to make do with the available stock of astrologers. This time I was having none of it. The incense began to choke me and the vermillion smeared on his forehead began to look more like part of a clown's ensemble. Without the atmosphere, the astrologer was nothing. From the Master of Planets, he had now dwindled to the position of a Nobody. I stormed up from my seated position. Fearing the worst, he let loose the secret of my misfortunes, "Your great-great-great grandfather was cursed by his second wife on her deathbed. The curse has to be broken...."
I sat back on the mat. The incense began to intoxicate me again. The vermillion on his forehead looked more intimidating than ever before. I spoke to his now-smiling countenance, "What can be done now?".....
My relief was palpable. Planetary misalignment was a mere trifle. Planets are obedient characters. A prayer or so would move mighty Jupiter back into his path and a few more prayers or a lamp or so would make the dangerous Saturn shed the extra ring or so. I had feared that something more sinister than planetary whims were at play behind my misfortunes, such as mortal human beings a hundred thousand millionth the size of these planets casting a spell on me. Spells are dreaded in this part of the world. A single spell would stop the favourable planet dead in his tracks and send Mr. Good Fortune packing. But planets... Bah! They are just pawns in the celestial game of chess that astrologers play.
Having made the statement of the day, the astrologer looked to me for deliverance. I spoke the words he was waiting to hear, "What is to be done?" The glint in his eye was replaced by a professional matter-of-fact look. He outlined his plans. A visit to an unheard-of temple in a nondescript village in the remotest part of the State, where he would invoke the Lord Saturn, followed by a feast to the villagers and generous offerings of food, clothing and other goodies such as jewellery to the priest (who would be one other than the present speaker, the astrologer). The plan seemed foolproof. I could get away with an expenditure of a few thousands of rupees. What's years of good fortune compared to a little loose change like this? I approved of the plan. Only the awareness of his position as a respectable astrologer prevented the man from jumping to the ceiling faster than the rising smoke and shouting, "Whoopee!"
Three weeks later, I had a nasty fight with my girlfriend and we broke up. Then the examination department of my college told me that I was dangerously close to falling short of attendance. The few Universities which I hoped would offer a seat to a moron like myself responded by invoking some technicalities and thus denied me admission. To add to the growing list, my boss called me up and said a monosyllabalic "No" to my request for a pay hike so that my joining the company would become meaningful. So that evening I stormed into the astrologer's house and confronted him with the situation. He gave me the look of a man who was expecting it all to happen.
Then the incense got the better of me. My reverance for the planets and the spells and all associated stuff returned with a bang. I waited until he rolled his dice and did some random mathematical calculations on the floor using a piece of chalk. In the meanwhile I weondered if I could also communicate with the planets by using the above-described methods, and whether couching these actions in scientific terms would win me one of the most famous patents in history. While I mused thus, the man finished his interplanetary voyage and prepared to speak. I was reminded of what some Shakespearan character told another about the Oracle and his listeners - that the listeners wait so anxiously for words of wisdom to flow from the mouth of the Oracle, but when the words do flow, the listeners feel like fools for having waited. I could now empathise with these ancient listeners and mulled over the fact that the practice of astrology hadn't changed over the millennia, the world over.
The man did speak eventually. The disembodied voice said, "You will have a bad time till the 26th of May. After that, you will have a good time. In the meanwhile, there is something you can do (with my help, of course)...." Shakespeare was so right. We listeners end up as fools. The Bard should take the place of these Oracles or astrologers or whatnot with his sharp prophetic insights. However, since Shakespeare died a few centuries ago, fools like me have to make do with the available stock of astrologers. This time I was having none of it. The incense began to choke me and the vermillion smeared on his forehead began to look more like part of a clown's ensemble. Without the atmosphere, the astrologer was nothing. From the Master of Planets, he had now dwindled to the position of a Nobody. I stormed up from my seated position. Fearing the worst, he let loose the secret of my misfortunes, "Your great-great-great grandfather was cursed by his second wife on her deathbed. The curse has to be broken...."
I sat back on the mat. The incense began to intoxicate me again. The vermillion on his forehead looked more intimidating than ever before. I spoke to his now-smiling countenance, "What can be done now?".....
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Life's Calling, but can I respond?
I ask you, what are we doing in this world? Framing it slightly differently, what ought to be done in life? I have spent the greater part of two weeks contemplating this question and I have arrived at no reasonable answer. The following would describe the life of about ninety percent of urban Indian males I have come across - join school, maintain good to excellent grades right through school, join a college, finish graduation, take a job, get steady in a job, get married, have kids, buy a car or two, build a house, take care of aged parents, set the "life cycle" in motion for kids, retire, get taken care of by kids in your old age, then finally die. All without time to breathe in between. Minor variants in the life cycle include a trip to the US for completing an MS and going to the same country on a "project" to be completed for one's employer. Further, and rarer, variants include an inter-caste marriage and a tiff with aged (read as conservative) parents leading to an existence away from the latter for the most part of life. Nevertheless, the point I wish to stress upon here is that there is no change in the pattern of life for most people around. We are all slaves of a system that is unseen but whose tentacles can be felt by all of us, a system that is accepted without as much as a raised eyebrow. Even my classmates at the otherwise unconventional-thinking National Law School are as much in the clutches of this system as anyone else around. Decisions are made for us even before we are born, our life stories written out before we can take our first step in this world.
Some people (like Ajay for one) are well aware of the system and its oppressive regime. They introduce minor variants of their own into their lives, such as an apparent "don't care" attitude. However much they like to call themselves "rebels", I'm afraid they fall well short of that. Awareness of the system and going against the system (which is a rebel's occupation) are two different things. Smoking, drinking, doping - these seem to be the symbols of rebellion against the system for such people. Unfortunately, they have got it all wrong. The high that a dose of alcohol or a shot of grass gives is the quickest way to surrender to the might of the system. To strengthen my argument, I will use the anecdotal argument. I once asked Ajay if he can think of a while after college without a job. His eyes opened wide and he said to me, "You must be crazy. My parents would never allow such a thing to happen." Where is the rebel? A meek surrender to the greater power of the system. Mind you, Ajay is but one example of all those wannabe rebels who end up cowering before life as ordained by custom.
In such a system, what is the status of change? Not a very respectable one, I'm afraid. My recent wanderings through the Hospitality Club (http://www.hospitalityclub.org) have got me a new friend. She's from another continent, on the other side of the planet. During a chat with her, I told her about the life of an average Indian. Her response - wild guffawing - summed up what such a life is: A Big Joke. She asked me two questions, "What do you want to do?" and "Why are you afraid of doing what you want?" The first was an easy one, but the second has had me stumped. She was extremely amused when I said that I couldn't do what I wanted, and even more amused when I didn't have a better reason than, "Everyone else does this, so I have to do it too". I began to see her point. She's taking a break from her studies to go teach English in another country, and then will be taking another break to volunteer for the Olympic Games. If I so much as suggested this at home, I would be quartered by the wildest horses available. She made a simple suggestion - don't break studies, but don't take a job for a year after studies, use that time to volunteer in different countries. I discussed this with Anubhav in college. His response was typical - "Boss, you are mad!! Get a hold of your life, take a job, settle down and then think of all this tomfoolery".
The maverick that I am, I wanted some mental gratification. I Googled "volunteer" and this took me to exotic locales (virtually, at least) and showed me what Life could be. Given a choice, I would occupy myself doing voluntary work for the rest of my life. It's the best way to see the world, meet new people, discover new cultures and importantly, where my work directly and tangibly would help other people and the planet at large. My lower jaw dropped and touched the table top as I navigated through the pages of the volunteer-work search engine. This was life in all its glory in front of me. This is what would amount to disobeying the orders of the system. I repeat myself here - this is what I would love to do for the rest of my life.
But as I type this, I have in the back of my mind a fear that I will not make it to HLL...
Some people (like Ajay for one) are well aware of the system and its oppressive regime. They introduce minor variants of their own into their lives, such as an apparent "don't care" attitude. However much they like to call themselves "rebels", I'm afraid they fall well short of that. Awareness of the system and going against the system (which is a rebel's occupation) are two different things. Smoking, drinking, doping - these seem to be the symbols of rebellion against the system for such people. Unfortunately, they have got it all wrong. The high that a dose of alcohol or a shot of grass gives is the quickest way to surrender to the might of the system. To strengthen my argument, I will use the anecdotal argument. I once asked Ajay if he can think of a while after college without a job. His eyes opened wide and he said to me, "You must be crazy. My parents would never allow such a thing to happen." Where is the rebel? A meek surrender to the greater power of the system. Mind you, Ajay is but one example of all those wannabe rebels who end up cowering before life as ordained by custom.
In such a system, what is the status of change? Not a very respectable one, I'm afraid. My recent wanderings through the Hospitality Club (http://www.hospitalityclub.org) have got me a new friend. She's from another continent, on the other side of the planet. During a chat with her, I told her about the life of an average Indian. Her response - wild guffawing - summed up what such a life is: A Big Joke. She asked me two questions, "What do you want to do?" and "Why are you afraid of doing what you want?" The first was an easy one, but the second has had me stumped. She was extremely amused when I said that I couldn't do what I wanted, and even more amused when I didn't have a better reason than, "Everyone else does this, so I have to do it too". I began to see her point. She's taking a break from her studies to go teach English in another country, and then will be taking another break to volunteer for the Olympic Games. If I so much as suggested this at home, I would be quartered by the wildest horses available. She made a simple suggestion - don't break studies, but don't take a job for a year after studies, use that time to volunteer in different countries. I discussed this with Anubhav in college. His response was typical - "Boss, you are mad!! Get a hold of your life, take a job, settle down and then think of all this tomfoolery".
The maverick that I am, I wanted some mental gratification. I Googled "volunteer" and this took me to exotic locales (virtually, at least) and showed me what Life could be. Given a choice, I would occupy myself doing voluntary work for the rest of my life. It's the best way to see the world, meet new people, discover new cultures and importantly, where my work directly and tangibly would help other people and the planet at large. My lower jaw dropped and touched the table top as I navigated through the pages of the volunteer-work search engine. This was life in all its glory in front of me. This is what would amount to disobeying the orders of the system. I repeat myself here - this is what I would love to do for the rest of my life.
But as I type this, I have in the back of my mind a fear that I will not make it to HLL...
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Lessons learnt
At the risk of bringing private life into the public sphere again, I want to lay down in bullet points the lessons life has taught me over the past two years or so...
- Honesty is the best policy.
- Man proposes, God disposes.
- Everyone has a private space around them which is just that - private.
- One unspoken word succesfully conveyed says more than a hundred spoken words can.
- Above all, true love conquers all....
I'm afraid this is all I can lay down on my blog... Interested parties may drop me an email. I will not respond if you sound too nosy or if you are just being inquisitive or you are looking for a scrap of juicy gossip.
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