Turbulence

2012-01-16T16:00:00.000-08:00

With every day slipping by, I realize that the deadline is looming before me, dangerously close, and the taste of stress seems bitter, sardonic, and nearly heart-wrenching. I remember my happy-shopping days, and happy-reading days, and happy-cookie days, and baking-days and beach-walks. Now, its just working-days, and memo-making days, and laundry-days, and infrequent lazy-days, and hanging around the campus days, and the occasional (or not so) beer-drinking days. Excruciating amounts of work, coupled with less incentive, equals over-stressed person.

:

2012-01-14T02:14:00.000-08:00

At this juncture, everything seems uncertain and hazy, and attachments seem trivial--work seems painful, and superficiality seems delicious--it's an acquired taste, I guess, much like beer.

Much as we wouldn't want to admit it, we do change. Life, people, and circumstances, mold you, squeeze you till you asphyxiate, and then breathe new life into you, making you more different--with different beliefs and principles.

So, with a twinge of nostalgia pinching my gut, I remember the happy, 'cookie-devouring, music-video-watching, sparkly-hair-clip-wearing' teenage me. And then I revert to the unending stack of chores, and the big question that keeps popping up. "what next?" And suddenly, all those nifty squabbles over 'who-said-what-about-you' just seem trivial and stupid. The big question needs to be answered. Soon.

In the process of being exposed, I seek to retrieve the lost pieces of the puzzle--they're not really lost, you see--they're hibernating in peaceful solace, hiding from the jagged edges of the objects that are hurtled towards it.

note to self.

2011-11-26T03:27:00.000-08:00

1. stop procrastinating.

2. meet deadlines.

3. stop being paranoid.

4. stop caring too much.

5. stop thinking.

6. watch more cartoons.

7. smile at self.

2011-07-01T04:25:00.001-07:00

Going back. Yay.

2011-06-25T08:30:00.000-07:00

Btw,

I just realized that I'm freaking 20. Damn.

2011-06-25T08:17:00.001-07:00

The beginning of a new era.

I was busily languishing in luxury, my head stuck in a pool of unproductive, non-intellectual rom-coms, after a grueling semester and a not-so-peppy internship, when a cloud came crashing on my head. The moot problem. Which I had been waiting for, with bated breath, for the last 2 months. I had resigned to the fact that vacations were meant for enjoyment (only after the not-so-peppy internship, of course) and home was the haven of laziness and hard-work would only be possible in the presence of equally competitive faces, a.k.a, not-at-home (NOT that I don't enjoy that, but the cribbing just makes it sound more real, and in any case its not the work that leads to the lamenting, it is only when the work becomes an overdose). However, I am much mistaken. The era of Semester V begins even before I reach my favorite desert.
What I foresee for the next semester:

Work

More Work

Some faculty members sitting on my head

Black Instant Coffee

Travel ( a lot of it)

Attendance issues, perhaps leading to a fine, because of above-mentioned reasons

Parle G to keep me company and Cerelac to substitute meals on the 'I'm not walking to the mess' days. (and I am proud of my cerelac addiction. Its filling, nutritious and absolutely delicious, so what the heck)

Chocolate, and pastas EVERY TIME I go out.

and vodka, in limited amounts.

Please, please, dear God, let there be light.

and, let my fan-and-cooler function normally.

I shall melt.

2011-06-22T22:18:00.001-07:00

Cutting hair short = Life changing decision.

Damn.

2011-06-20T21:21:00.001-07:00

Who needs outside-people when you can seek comfort in yourself? There's nothing like curling up with a stack of books, and a mug of hot-chocolate, and devouring them till the crack of dawn. Cell phones should be banned.

Is it impossible in today's incredibly conservative society for a girl to love herself and to feel comfortable in her own skin without being mistaken for a bimbo who's out for some fun?! Is it so difficult to have conversations, meaning conversations.

I am sick of a lot of things.

the perfect sunday!

2011-06-12T08:28:00.000-07:00

1. sidey nonetheless cute Tamil movie, that doesn't contain any fighting or knife-stabbing.

2. the longest, most luxurious apple-smelling body massage.

3. shopping.

4. very-vanilla latte.

5. more shopping, and amazing shoes...!!!

6. wine (and lots of it till pleasantly buzzed).

7. homemade Chinese food.

I love weekends.

2011-05-22T21:54:00.001-07:00

Fact of life: We always desire things that we cannot have, be it that sinful chocolate cake with whipped cream and ice-cream and other delectable add-ons, or a law degree from a fancy ivy league school, which doesn't strip us off every last penny from our coffer. Our thirst persists, despite silent protests from within.

We even fall for PEOPLE that we cannot have. The bespectacled, suave guy, with broody looks, dreamy eyes, faint stubble, patrician hands, and crisp shirts. The guy with the smooth, husky voice, who likes literature and poetry and world politics and who drinks mint tea and reads travelogues in coffee shops. The guy who has probably charmed a million girls with his debonair charm and wit, and who has left behind a heap of soggy crumpled tissues.

We know what's good for us, and what's bad for us, but still, the brief sweetness on our tongue is always chosen over the bitterness and the burning.

Karela juice or chocolate milkshake? We know the goddamn answer!

2011-05-18T02:11:00.000-07:00

things that haven't changed:

1. blogging during internship

2. facebooking during internship.

3. "dentist appointments" during internship.

4. spending 135 freakin bucks on ONE scoop of swiss-chocolate ice-cream at Movenpick. During internship, of course.

5. chocolate cravings. they just dont go!

6. Addiction to sitcoms and soppy stuff.

7. Dancing

8. Taste in music

9. Taste in books

Things that have changed:

Everything else

Things that are about to change:

Career decisions.

And the question I ask myself. WHY did I take law?

Let me rewind 3 years, go back to class XII, and apply to those colleges that offer fancy Journalism courses. Those colleges that I wrote off with much smugness and snootiness.
Let me be an author, a newsreader. Let me devour literature without dissecting it. Let me dance, sing. Let me LIVE.

why law school?

and WHY is every law firm not like Crane, Poole and Schmidt? Why is there no Alan Shore, or Denny Crane? Why is there no scotch-on-balcony conversations? Why are there mechanical associates-on-wheels robots, and on helluva task-master lawyer who tests his poor frisky interns, who haven't been TAUGHT at law school. Why does the fat judge sleep in Court? Why can't the fat-judge with the beer belly SPEAK ENGLISH? WHY are courtrooms over-crowded? WHy are interns not paid? Why are law-firms overstaffed and competitive?

Career decision needs to be rethought. And revamped.

Men-- By Maya Angelou

2011-05-13T22:23:00.000-07:00

When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pauses,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.

One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.

Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.

Maybe.

2011-05-13T22:15:00.000-07:00

I can't believe that I haven't blogged in a year. I can't say that I didn't try. Maybe it's because so much has changed in the past year--I wouldn't even know where to begin.
But things are well, different, but well. Change is good, catastrophic but good, paradoxical as it sounds.

However, some things never change. A toast, to nostalgic memories, and to the things that remain the same.

2010-06-25T02:38:00.000-07:00

It's over. The internship, vacations, fun. All over.

Back to "that place". I even look forward to it, but just a bit.

Change is good.

2010-06-08T23:26:00.001-07:00

Monosyllables.

Less is more.

Less words, more sense. :-)

2010-06-07T03:38:00.000-07:00

Court proceedings.

Lawyers. Lots of them.

One hot-tempered, short-tempered, cranky judge. To quote a very pissed off lawyer, "The monkey that climbed its way into the High-Court, from the lower-court."

Ass fried by cranky, deranged judge.

The law? "Vaat laa?"

Piled up cases.

AC.

Black coats (robes? The Harry Potter kind. Not at all.)

Polyester.

Smell of phenyl.

Gavel.

AIRs.

Books.

Money.

Cash.

Liquid.

Justice? No effing way.

2010-06-04T03:28:00.001-07:00

I will NEVER work in a corporate law firm. NEVER. IPR was interesting. But Company law? Urgh. Eyuck.

To think people actually enjoy it.

2010-06-04T00:42:00.000-07:00

Tiredness.

Sleep. Required.

Food. Required.

Sleep. Rest. Tired. Stinging eyes.

But, what do I get?

Work, more work.

2010-06-01T22:06:00.000-07:00

I FINALLY have work to do. Some case involving Eyetex Dazzler (the cheap local brand of nail-polish and lipstick). Its to do with trademarks, which I have NO CLUE about (first year law student, remember?).

But still. Its work. Research. Work. Yaay!

2010-05-31T22:35:00.000-07:00

The dance-show was a lot of fun. My red dress didn't fly up in the air like I anticipated, and the straps of my heels didn't snap mid-dance. My partner (though he was way, way, way older than me) didn't drop me (he only nearly did), and he twirled me just right. Salsa is fun, and if law-school and internship didn't eat up so much time, and if I could find a suave guy for a dance partner, who doesn't think that dancing is gay, and who doesn't have hygiene issues, I'd do it every damn day!

Now it's just the internship. The internship. Massive pain in the rear internship.

Why is legal drafting so boring?

WHY can't I be given "WORK" to do? Not just researching on some ridiculous pointless property dispute and the Law of Wills and the Hindu Succession Act, 1956 (which is one of the most bloody archaic laws I've ever come across, but heck, I'm a first year law student. What do I know? I live in my idyllic, rosy bubble where there is uniform civil code, AND anarchy. Contradictory, right?). What is left of my legal brain is rotting and rusting from facebooking, blogging, chatting with random people from the past that I don't intend to really catch up with, and doing other pointless non-intellectual activities between the occasional bouts of research.

And I JUST found out that this is a paid internship. I'm going to get paid for sitting in this air-conditioned office everyday for a couple of hours, using their super-fast internet connection to facebook, blog and chat with random people. I hope they don't pay me. I really hope they don't. I don't deserve this. I feel like a supreme lazy bitch. But then, I'm not lazy.

THERE IS JUST NO WORK TO DO. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. No. WORK.

The stupid court is closed, and it won't open till next week. There are these super-smart fresh-out-of-law-school associates here who keep flying about the office filing writs by the second. This place is over-staffed, and there is JUST NO WORK.

GIVE ME WORK!! Make me file a writ, type out a legal-notice. Something! I'm not that stupid. What is left of my brain is functional enough to WORK, which is why I'm interning in the first place. I'm supposed to LEARN, not learn to be a SNEAKY, LAZY BITCH MISUSING OFFICE PRIVILEGES. Urgh! I'm blinking at this fat, huge, 5000 page text on the Law of Wills researching for a case that has been pending in court for the last two decades and that is probably not scheduled for hearing until next year.

Law-school. And its numerous myths.

2010-05-28T23:39:00.001-07:00

Why is life such a paradox? Ironies confound the hell out of me, sometimes. I just don't get it.

Isn't it incredibly ironic that middle-class people who have been born and brought up in a developing country can be so terribly well-read, well-bred, well-mannered and polite despite the 'inadequate education', I quote, they have received, whereas some rich hypocrite who claims to have received a better quality of education from some fancy foreign school and university displays behaviour which is abominable and disgusting, by asking blatantly blunt questions, in a quest to prove his financial superiority over the other--an attempt to make the other person feel inferior?

Isn't it self-explanatory that at least decency, if not aristocratic behaviour, is expected from one who receives what he considers the 'best form of education'? Nope, it isn't evidently. Because what you learn is not dependent on where you study, or even what you study. It's all about perspective, and attitude.

So even if you study in some fancy school and an even better university, and you live in a palatial house, and own a private jet, and can take a cruise in the middle of the year if you so please, at the end of the day you're a smaller person with ABSOLUTELY NO SCRUPLES WHATSOEVER, than your counterpart who is temporarily in what you consider 'a developing country'--a truth that is facaded under the veils of patriotism that suddenly emerges out of nowhere, when you crave the authentic experience of sambar-vadais and Tamil cinema.

So if you think that your financial superiority is a sanction that you are a better, and bigger person, then at least help yourself. Go read Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, and learn a bit about the non-materialistic and the aesthetic ways of living sans a private jet and a million people waiting at your beck and call, whom you take for granted, as opposed to the flamboyance that you display coupled with the inflammatory statements you enjoy making and the un-required questions asked not out of concern, but only with the mala-fide intention of attempting to make people feel inferior.

Oh, and now that this is out of me, I call a truce now.

2010-05-24T23:07:00.000-07:00

This internship gives me reason to drop out of law-school and become a 'couch-potato-before-the-tv-eating take-out from cartons-and-binge-drinking myself to death'.

If the facts of the case are already typed, and is now ingrained in your brain, WHY do you need me to tabulate it? Oh, I forgot. We're non-paid over-eager first-year law students, who have no clue about the 'law' (read previous post). We have no legal brain.

As an afterthought, reading the case wasn't so bad actually. But after reading it 4 times, I felt like banging my head against a wall. Both the parties are wrong. One wrong nullifies another. So stop suing each other and get on with life. Simple? Not so much.

Every argument has a counter-argument. Everything has to be looked at from a different point of view. Every minute detail has to be harped upon.

Sigh. I chose this. It could be so much simpler if everyone stopped quantifying things.

To quote Rhett Butler, "Frankly my deal, I don't give a damn."

2010-05-22T23:33:00.000-07:00

Frosted chocolate-covered strawberries.
And they say it's food-for-sex. Now, who would have thought?

2010-05-17T23:40:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I studied Contracts and Constitution for one semester. I don't know a thing, and my stupidity (in the subjects in question, and hopefully not in general) has finally come to surface. So law school doesn't teach you a thing. And interning is 'the learning process'. Sure. You just go nodding your head whilst the guy you're interning under spews legal jargon. Then, when he disappears, you google everything he has said, and feel stupider by the second.
I should read more cases and legal crap, as opposed to fiction. THAT is why they don't stock fiction in the university library.

2010-05-04T21:39:00.000-07:00

I cannot fathom how people actually allow people to affect them. It really is beyond me--how can someone as detached, carefree, wild, adventurous and commitment-phobic as me, actually feel?
Maybe I am not that unconventional after all. Maybe I've been so caught up in those soap-opera superficialities that are whittled out of social stigmas, that what is so real just slipped from my fingers. Maybe I give in too soon. Maybe I'm too blunt. And maybe the solution does not lie here.
There's a someone I miss very much. If she was here, things would be so different. She was the least judgmental person I've ever known, and very compassionate and kind. I miss our long, late-night spiritual conversations. I miss her room, which always smelled of Calvin Klein. I miss the aesthetic, instrumental music she played. I miss the dim lighting, open balcony, and her skinny, raggedy pillow. I miss the lemon Smirnoff and mess-chicken that we (I) greedily devoured in her room. I miss those conversations that went on for hours together. We'd speak about Gandhi, Buddhism, world-peace, international politics, people, spiritual stuff and anything that was non-university related. She was the least superficial and materialistic person I've known, and the most fun. She was just so real, too good to be true. She never judged anyone, including the people who were not so kind to her. She always saw the good in people, and never disliked anyone.
I miss her so much. She would have made this place so much better for a lot of people. If you ever read this post, you should know how much you've touched me, and what a big difference your absence has made to me. You should know that I've learnt so much from you, and
I wish you didn't leave. I wish you had stayed on, and your presence would have made this semester a whole lot easier for so many people. And I hope you forgive me for detaching myself, briefly. When I'm ready, I'll get back.

2010-04-27T20:57:00.000-07:00

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Screw Aristotle. Pointless, archaic, primitive philosophies.
And who knew how bloody boring the Constitution of India can be?
Screw judgments, and hoity-toity judges.
And finally. To hell with law school. And everything that goes with it.

2010-04-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

The semester is over. It's been terribly weird in a lot of ways, and there has been an unexpected turn of events. I guess people eventually surprise you (good or bad). This semester has left me with fewer regrets, fewer emotional attachments, more fond memories, and more hurt than one can imagine. But I liked it, at some level. It brought me towards people, and taught me how to feel despite cold numbness and amidst so much hostility and suffocating superficiality. At the end of the day, I guess I've learnt to be more patient, less impulsive and very, very tolerant. It has been good and non-controversial in so many ways, almost peaceful. At the risk of sounding sappy and saccharine, I shall say that maybe this could grow in on me, eventually. Over time.
I wish it could be easier to permeate through walls, though. Through thick, hard, cold stone walls that block you out and freeze you, much as you try to grope your away in the darkness and find a door, to let in the light. It's not like I wanted to. I felt I had to. I still feel, and I wish it could stop, because I know that I'm just scooping sand on my own head. It's pointless. How can compassion, kindness, and softness melt a stone? We're hardly in the world of Grimms Fairy Tales, and Hans Christian Anderson. If it was this easy, I'm sure we'd all be more peaceful and less in a state of war. This, being applicable to fundamentalists (the kind that indulge in moral policing), with all due respect to their regard for the requirement of religious demarcation, a.k.a quest for power.
I'm sure I finally sounded like a terrible imitation (mockery, even) of Wordsworth, the comparison not being intended to flatter myself, (far from it, in fact), with the excessive use of metaphors. I shall stop now.
If only these bloody exams can be evaded. And if only swearing was acceptable, and I could use the F word umpteen times, without sounding disrespectful, to vent out frustrations. If only scruples and principles were not shaped so much by social norms. If only.

2010-04-09T04:22:00.000-07:00

Unpredictability can be a turn off sometimes. Such things grown in on you over a long span of time.
You know what else can be a turn off? Gossip. Yes, oodles and ooldes of gossip. Somehow, one of the many cliches that we hear seems to deem fit the situations we encounter. But gossip never dies. Hail, all gossip-mongers. Somehow, privacy is non-existent. As is the ability to exercise the brain in judgment. And a lot of other things, but in judgment, mainly. The brain is used to mug, and only mug. When it comes to decisions? We'd rather go with the majority, wouldn't we? And we're in a law school? One of the million ironies of life.

2010-04-06T18:55:00.000-07:00

I read my first ever blog-post and laughed. It was in January 2008. Can you believe, I actually fretted about leaving home, going to college? A while before that, I used to fret over balance sheets. Mine never used to tally, probably due to my abysmal mathematical skills (I can't even add or subtract without making a gazillion errors). I think my balance sheet tallied for the first time in the boards, and even then, the amount was wrong. And it turned out ok. Tallied/untallied balance sheets. Big deal.
It sounds so ludicrous now. Who knows, maybe ten years from now, I'll read these blog posts and laugh. It's always good to find humour out of things you don't expect you will.
I miss New Year Celebrations. The 2004-2005 New Year was by far, the best ever. I can't believe that it's been 5 years since then.
4 years isn't that long, after all. Much as I want 4 years to get over soon, I want to stay eighteen forever. I dont wan't to leave this place, counting years before a gray hair sprouts in my head.
Sigh. To memories.

2010-04-05T10:15:00.001-07:00

The person who says that happiness comes from within, should be shot. It does not come from within. It just does not. It is not a state of mind. It does not come from observing nature's beauty. Philosophy is for idealist thinkers.
As for us soon-to-be-lawyers, we thrive on practicality. We need to be grounded, all the time, sardonic as it sounds. In the light of practicality, happiness is love, family, feeling of contentment, money, wealth. Happiness is finding home.

I have not found home here. Does this mean I am not happy?

2010-04-04T07:23:00.000-07:00

You learn a lot of things in this place. And law is NOT one of them...
Things that i've learnt in this terribly short span of time, which has felt like eternity:
1. Diplomacy is the best. Don't have an opinion. If you do have an opinion, keep it stuffed between your tongue and the roof of your mouth.
2. People will judge you, no matter what. You can't really change that, or do anything about that.
3. Most people are pretty screwed up. Since it's impossible to judge who is normal without getting in the middle of a rut, it's best to stay away.
4. Hardwork does not pay. Sucking up does.
5. Trivialities prevail. Stay away, again.
6. Seniors are right, no matter what. Even if they are wrong, don't say it. Seniors are messengers of God. They can do no wrong. Courtesy, Divine Origin Theory of Political Obligation. Obligation owed to seniors is unlimited.
7. When called, don't ignore.
8. Don't eat. The food is disgusting, unhealthy and fattening.
9. The whole North-Indian/South-Indian thing cannot be done away with. Accept that you're a dark-skinned (black), non-Hindi Speaking avaracious, over-ambitioous, over-competitive, unfeeling mugger similar to the grossly exaggerated potrayal in 3 Idiots and be proud about it.
10. Regionalism prevails. Live with it, don't deal with it.
11. Plagiarise projects.
12. Self-studying is the only studying you can get done here. Classroom learning is a utopian concept. Plato has 'education as a method of learning' in his ideal state.
13. There is a thin line between stupidity and smartness. It takes one to know one.
14. Keep to yourself. i think this one tops the list. Keeping to yourself.
15. Suddenly, Linkin Park seems like good music. Loud, crazy metal with lyrics that spew frustration and anger. A good way to give vent to feelings. Linkin Park on full-volume. And you need to sing along for the full effect.
16. You can never go to class even once looking the least bit disillusioned without being the butt of someone's jokes. In fact, you are always the butt of someone's joke.
17. Keep to yourself. I find the need to reiterate.

And there is more to this list. Right now, a Scotch and a doobey sound tempting. But I think I'll have to make do with a TV sitcom with slapstick humour and cereal. Damn. Screw morality.

And the list could go on forever.

2010-04-03T12:23:00.000-07:00

Where did all that enthusiasm go?
I remember my first day at law school, when I was all geared up for what I had believed would be the most exhilerating years of my liffe. Lost as I was in the sea of unfamiliar faces, I tried to find a place amidst the hostililty and coldness that had not yet percolated to my veins, and that just wafted about in the air like a wisp of smoke that didn't obscure your vision quite so much. Classes were fun. Notes were taken down. Doubts raised. I was a front-bencher. Yes, me. The library was a frequent haunt. Committee-meetings were much awaited. Debate sessions were fun. The experience of mooting was exhalting, despite the volume of research that went with it. Outings were frequent. Dressing up to class was fun. Smiling was fun. Talking to people was common--and a necessity, even.
And then, everything just changes. The enthusiasm is gone. Dead. Smiling is forced, sometimes, not even an option. Classes are exclusively attended for attendance. I'm a back-bencher, paperback in hand, i-pod plugged in ears. People are a turn-off, for the obvious reasons of lack of synchronicity and a whole lot of other things that just cannot be penned down here. Committee meetings are not awaited anymore. Debating seems dry. Mooting is arbitrary, as is the grading system. Studying is an ordeal. Sanity is stretched. Insane people seem to mottle the campus. Bleary-eyed, stoned, half-drunk people constitute a major chunk of what is left of the sane people.
It's not the same. Was never meant to be. All the same, the thought that it could have is good enought.

Shoot me.

2010-03-22T23:31:00.000-07:00

Books. I miss reading. The library is one of the most depressing places. Dingy and small, with dull tubelights, long tables and chairs squished in. Racks and racks of shelves, which comprise books that cannot be issued, but only referred to. A smirking librarian, picking on people for whispering. Serious-faced people hammering away at laptops or consulting fat books that they cannot issue and read in the comfort of their rooms. The silence is overwhelming, save a few stray whispers. And the best part is, fiction is denied to law-students, apparently, since the only books available in the library are law books, and a few cliched classics that are supposed to represent the entire class of fiction books. Heck, they don't even have legal-fiction.
It's just fat law textbooks, tattered and dog-eared, wedged between fatter books, on the ugly metal rack. This is testimony to the fact that learning is imposed on us in the most terrible ways. Mental growth is discouraged, and we're made to swallow everything that is dished out to us.
Maybe if there was some creativity and imagination around here,things would be different in every way. For one, I wouldn't have to stare at the black head in front of me in class, and nod earnestly at the gibberish spouted by the teacher, whilst I slip into a reverie far away from here. Secondly, eccentricity wouldn't be considered ludicrous, and idiosyncrasies would not be scorned upon with disgust.
Happy places can be found in books. But they don't realize that.
After all, we're just 21st century kids. The era of technology has transformed us into machines. Data is fed into us, and we process it. This, they call knowledge, education. Hypocrisy is omnipresent, they say. But to this extent?
And they call us sassy, not outspoken. Since when? One of the many ironies of life.

2010-01-19T08:00:00.000-08:00

Nostalgia is possibly one of the worst form of emotional wierdness that a person can experience. It often comes in the form of a song that reminds of you of childhood days, when life seemed so simple. Of long car-drives with family, cruising down traffic-laden roads, of swimming lessons, of mangoes, of softy-ice-creams, of art-classes, of salsa, of Harry Potter, of video-games, of summer-vacations during school, of 9th-grade crushes, of going through the 'pink-phase', followed by the 'goth-phase', of unrealistic and unfulfilled dreams and ambitions, of conversations, of chocolate, of VH1, of MTV Most Wanted, of Aqua, and Britney Speares. It reminds you of black nail-polish, hair-streaking, of ankle-socks, of short-skirts, of school-bus rides, of school-bus friends, of canteen food, of school-bus food, of tiffin-boxes, of tupperware, of sharing lunch, of corn-puffs, of orange-ice cream, of sleeping in class, of bunking, of school assemblies, of school prayers, of drill, of the mall, of Javagreen, of granitas, of surprise cell-phone raids, of copying in exams, of cheat-sheets, of sports day, of annual day, of culturals, of debates, of ad-zap.
Life then, was so terribly simple. However did things get complicated. School was the one place where things were secure, at least for the time-being. Tensions included completing homework and wearing polished shoes. And then, things become complicated. There's more to it that pressed uniform and completed homework.
It's not that simple.
Which is why when you listen to a song that reminds you of Dexter's Laboratory and powerpuff girls an popeye, and the Little Lulu show, you wish you hadn't grown up so fast. You wish you'd stuck on as a kid, and ate candy for lunch, without counting calories. You wish you could read Enid Blyton unabashedly, and you could bunk school to watch cartoons. You wish you hadn't thrown such a big fuss over third-grade mathematics. if only you did those stupid sums then without the lamenting and the fuss.
And now, we're stuck. We miss growing up. We won't grow up again. We can't just bunk college and watch cartoons. We can't eat candy four times a day without getting fat. We can't watch Wizard of Oz. We can, maybe, but it's not the same. We can never understand the Wizard of Oz the way we did when we were kids. Now, it's just not the same. I can never watch Heidi (which used to be my most favorite cartoon back then), without distorting the childish memory I have, of dancing goats and a cute, chubby girl.
Life is unfair. Growing up should be slow. I think of all the times I'd hoped to be 'grown-up' as a kid. I'd hoped to wear high-heels and a suit, and carry a brief-case and look serious and important. And now, when it comes to doing that, I'd rather wear a smock and eat Twinkies and Doritos and watch Heidi on Cartoon Network.

2009-12-12T06:38:00.000-08:00

We live in the epoch of extreme consumerism. In fact, we are consumed by this very phenomenon at best. In the cadence of the modern 21st century, we're victims of the retail market that has taken over our lives. We're dependent on them for food, clothes, groceries, and even the bloody damn newspaper(metaphorically, obviously)! Sometimes, (more often than not) we feel like hapless consumers whose voice is being stamped out by the unreasonable price-rates thrown at us along with the inadequate quality--a shocker--(at this point, I'm NOT talking about instant rip-offs at the Sarojini Nagar Market or Janpath in New Delhi, when you purchase a raggedy T-shirt for 150 bucks only to realize its true value lies less than 70 bucks. Hawkers are ALLOWED to cheat you. It's called licensed cheating, and you're SUPPOSED to bargain. You'll only be considered an absolute airhead to not bargain). Anyway, I'm talking about swanky branded retail outlets that were invented to cater to the bourgeoisie, where consumers have no option but to stick to the overpriced rate marked on the price tag. These consumers construe that the large quantity of dough doled out towards their purchase automaticaly guarantees them exemplary quality. But no, they're mistaken.
Gone are the days where there is value for money for consumers. In fact, retail outlets make a juicy profit at the expense of the naive consumers, most of whom are oblivious to the cons of globalization, which include 'illegal profit-making by manufacturing goods of substandard quality'. Ha, who cares if defective electrical appliances causes the death of somebody? Who fucking cares?!
The materialism is abysmal (has always been, and will always be), but the lack of respect is unpardonable. It just bears testimony to the fact that a person's life is equated to a certain percentage of profit acquired from selling a defective product. Which is revolting.
And no number of laws, I tell you, can rectify this disgusting phenomenon that looms like a miasma of disaster over this 'global village'. It requires an attidudinal turnover. And this very statement is incredibly futile, considering that an attitudinal turnover has not been accomplished despite fruitless but earnest attempts, in the last century, when it comes to scruples and principles (in fact, it has only worsened in this department), and probably will not happen in the next couple of centuries.
Unless maybe there is a natural calamity. Nature's fury can do miracles, can't it?
Middle fingers to retail outlets. Die, you cheating, dishonest bastards.

2009-12-10T23:37:00.000-08:00

I am the laziest person ever. Lazy, lazy, LAZY. Blogging when I'm supposed to be working at the internship place. Not that I have any work to do, considering that this place is overstaffed and doesn't require anything done. But still.
Boredom always takes over, though. That's my excuse.

2009-09-25T10:15:00.000-07:00

I wondered why things had to end the way it did. I did want it to end, but not that way. In any way but that way. Nonetheless, things are so less in our control that much as we hope, pray and cry for things to be different, at the end of the day, it either is just not different, or the difference is not the difference we cried for.
So we don't really have a say in certain things, much as we'd like to. We'd all love to delve into time and redo things, say things we wish we'd said, and unsay things--take back things we wish we'd never said. Only it's too late for all of that. Memories can never be erased, though they can be buried, tucked away in some corner that will remain unexplored till necessary.
It's been a wierd semester in University. In ways that I wouldn't particularly like to recollect or blog about, but returning home was like waking up after a nightmare. A nightmare that haunts you and clings onto your very being--a nightmare that you remember so distinctly and that now holds a corner of your brain and your heart--a fact that you will have to acknowledge and be strong about.
I didn't think that writing a novel would be so difficult. I'd always believed that the writers block is only a psycological phenomenon--an excuse for writers to plunge into the occassional lazy spell, which is understandable and de rigeur--I tell you from the personal experience of swishing through a bout of laziness myself. But well, I've been sadly mistaken. The writers' block does exist, it does, and much as you try to write despite the aching emptiness (and the feeling of stupidity in my case) in your head, words get stuck and twisted and sentences are constructed all wrong and ideas are cliched and often repetitive. The experience of proof-reading is sort of like reading a sappy novel only to realize that it's so mundane and unreal, like the many things that are unreal in our daily lives.
I'd like to add that there ought to be a society or community for socially inept people. People who are socially awkward and who spend ninety percent of conversations revelling in uncomfortable silence or cracking lame jokes and who are misconstrued as original fun-suckers due to their terrible inter-personal skills probably stemming from an entirely different and uncommon wavelength all ought to get together. I'd probably fit in then.

Untitled random posting that has no relevance to the life called 'law school'

2009-09-10T05:24:00.000-07:00

I saw you falling into the black abyss, and I reached out frantically to grab you. You and I had a lot in common. We were both victims of the blood-thirsty, power-hungry materialistic animals who continued vying for each others' blood in a relentless quest for power--the very power that had ripped the society into fragments of space and that had shattered every dream that nestled under the skeins of silky protection like mirrors being splintered into shards.
We shared the yearning to run away from the power-hungry maniacs, to break free from the manacles of morality so carefully chalked by the ones who believed themselves to be the quintessential elements of the existence of the universe. We shared the book of right and wrong, which we had mentally written for ourselves in the little space we kept for ourselves. We shared the desire to jump into the black chasm of cold darkness to escape the wounds that the words cut into tenderness, the tenderness that I could comprehend so well...
Your words of wisdom continue to echo in my head, and they echoed when I clawed to breathe under the cold suffocating waters of ire, of negativity, of mirthless laughter, of animosity that somehow converted sweet redolence into the rancid odor of hatred, of sardonic bitterness that wrenched my heart.
Your brown eyes gave me the strength to hold onto the flimsy thread that bound the fragile bits together.
When I saw you falling into the black abyss, I reached out, and grabbed you. I didn't want you to fall, because somehow, somewhere, I cared. I didn't feel for you, not for an instant, perhaps because all the pain had numbed me, and had made me immune to feelings of love and passion. The surge of emotions had been broken long back by needles that left scars unhealed. But the humanity, the compassion was strengthened. I cared, I realized that I did, and I fought to catch you, fought against forces that exhausted me, that drained me, sapped me off energy. Until one day, you lashed out in venom. In misunderstanding. You didn't comprehend the depth of the scarce emotions that lay buried and veneered beneath the non-pretentious, genuine caring. You misconstrued the chiding as anger, anger that never existed. You pushed me away with words that added to the scars already existing, that caused so much pain and hurt.
That is when I realized that I had wallowed in self-pity for too long, and it was futile trying to lift you from the darkness when you so willingly jumped into it, when you were embracing it. You wanted the darkness, and all the love I could muster would never take you to light when you somehow saw light when engulfed in darkness.
The irony shocks me, but the the truth is plain and simple, as lucid as the clear Jodhpur sky with it's sparse mottling of stars facaded by wisps of thick clouds.
I retreat into the cocoon, however, stronger than ever, knowing that the feelings of compassion will be invoked yet again by the monster called 'power' that surges within each one of us to satisfy the materialistic wants that we were not born with, and that we will not die with.

2009-07-25T00:46:00.000-07:00

I'm here. I like starting on a positive note, and the very fact that my 'I'm here' should imply that I am well and live, with every limb in my body intact, at the very least, denotes positivism.
So, well, this place is not exactly Eden--it takes a long while to figure things out, but at least I am glad that I am no longer in the rut. I love this place, only minus people. There should be places without people, and this, coming from the socially non-challenged, extrovert who is known to possess more social skills than ever known, is frankly alarming. I've realized, perhaps too late, that there can be NO place without superficiality, and my question is, under all the clouds of smoke wreaked by joints and cigars (pardon me for not being able to differentiate a cigar from a cigarette), under all the alcohol fumes from vodka and whisky and brandy and blah, what lies? What exists? Isn't is just a void that yearns to be filled, the sense of insecurity, dissatisfaction? Then, why, why, why, why is it that the people who don't do it are branded as the freaks and are excluded from the social strata? Why is it that too much importance is attached to the most materialistic things there could be? There are too many things that elude me, that are beyond my comprehension, things that confound the hell out of me. The very fact that frivolity is chosen over sincerity, brawn over brains, the very fact that things that matter are shielded by the things that shouldn't, the fact that everything that should matter is facaded by curtains and curtains of ugly black. It is all of this that eludes me.
Why can't there be genuineness in every word spoken, kindness in every act done? Why can't idealism be, for once, chosen?
I am so tired of it all. If things don't turn out the way I hoped it would, I know I shall have the courage and the strength to face them. After all, I've seen the worst and this can, in no way, compare to what I've been through the past one year. But I shall hope, will hope.

2009-06-30T20:44:00.000-07:00

I was waiting for this day to happen. Waiting for the day I'd move on to a better place, and then gloat at all the people who poked fun at me for being ambitious and outspoken, who laughed at me because I wanted to do something, who misconstrued every step I took, who tried their best to pull me down to their barbaric level, the level I hoped never to reach.
I took a couple of major risks and decisions this year, and if it wasn't for the risks I had taken, I wouldn't have finally got what I wanted the most--to leave. When I knew I was leaving, I waited for the happiness, the bliss, and the pleasant warm feeling one gets perhaps after receiving a thoughtful gesture from a close friend. But none of that. I felt relief. Relieved that I wouldn't have to go back to that place--that place where I was misunderstood, where I was a misfit because people couldn't understand someone who wanted to lead a more fulfilling life. A misfit because I didn't preen before the mirror and bat eye-lashes and discuss frivolous things, the way other people did.
These reasons sound ridiculous to me now, but I certainly didn't strut around University with a black smudge on my nose, so at this point, the hat certainly fits.
Anyway, the misunderstandings were caused by someone I thought was my friend, but who clearly proved me wrong and managed to get an army of people to side up with him. Well, for his own good, people eventually saw through his facade of "good-manners and smooth tongue", and what they saw nestled under the reels of silk was something unimaginably ugly, and they vowed to stay away. I saw it first, but well, by the time people realized I was right, I had returned to my happy place--the books.
I don't have all bitter memories. Contrary to what people think, I've had (and still have) a ton of friends, and a wonderful roommate, who stood by me through the toughest times. She didn't want me to go, but she knew I wanted to, and never once talked me out of moving on. She pushed me to it, in fact and was always the person I could call and grumble about how screwed up life was, the person I could bawl to, and at the end of it, she'd only smile and tell me that it would all be ok. She must have inordinate amounts of patience to tolerate my pessimism, my negativity, and my tears. Then there were the others in the hostel, people who knew everything about me, people whom I could trust with anything, people who understood me and who supported me. The ones who called me and wished me on my birthday, who congratulated me over my results, the only ones who knew. The ones who understand, who remained loyal and faithful and who made my last days at University memorable. I've had wonderful memories of University that I wont forget. It took just one person to break it all, but he can't get to my memories, he just can't.
I know I am moving on to better things, but I'll miss University all the same. I'll miss the gang, the outings ,the food, the gossip, the long conversations nestled in our beds, watching horror movies on laptops, the junk-food, the football, the room downstairs courtesy a broken leg, the lame movies we watched in the theatre, the mall, the "sandstorm", birthday celebrations, cake-fights, cold-drink fights, singing in the hostel room off-key, the fights, the squabbles, the arguments, the debates, the make-ups after every fight, the hugs. There is so much to remember.
I may be moving on, but I'll never forget.
And for the record: I'm not leaving University because of the people in it. Far from it in fact, considering that the person who could have been the reason I left is longer viewed with the same eyes. I loved the people at University. They were the reason I held on to sanity. Anyone who has read my blog will know my real reasons for leaving.
I hope the Moot Court Committee at University is relieved now. They wont have any rebellious bitches to deal with.

2009-05-14T21:02:00.000-07:00

The countdown begins. Am eagerly waiting for the day I completely lose it and start eating cereal straight out of the box. Oh wait. I've already done that.

2009-05-13T21:05:00.000-07:00

It all started when little Mr. (or Miss) Meddle-fingers decided to meddle with the locks. This, THIS has created a furor all over the country, and has ruined vacation-plans of many.
After doing the unthinkable (which involved more guts than you could ever imagine, mind you), and abandoning my darling bed at University, I return home and bury myself in books, ostracizing myself from the outside world, barring the phonecall to my roomie, and an occasional chit-chat with the other inhabitants of Univ (who seem to be the only people who understand). I'd been holding on to the notion that everything would be over soon, and that I could actually do some of the things I'd been wanting to do in ages, but just couldn't do. Like watching Friends reruns at a stretch, eating muffins. Like swimming. Like talking on the phone the whole night to anyone who'd listen. Like staying up all night watching a cheesy horror flick. Like catching up with old school friends I hadn't seen in ages. Like going on the family vacation that had been planned very painstakingly by Dad, and hanging out with a sister I hadn't seen in six months. Like going to Mumbai with Didi. Like taking a vacation with Roomie dear. Now, I realize that I have to hold on to this for another 20 days.
I think this is the hard part of getting into law school. I nearly forgot how much patience one needs (I've been through this whole ordeal before). I nearly forgot how much one needs to endure. I'd forgotten about the cribbings, the cryings, the nights spent staring at the ceiling fan swirling above the head.
I'd forgotten all of that.
.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish I'd just stuck to what I had.

2009-05-13T09:31:00.001-07:00

The Indian Education system sucks!!!

2009-05-02T20:10:00.001-07:00

WHEN will I come to my senses? WHEN????

2009-04-12T06:14:00.000-07:00

Another thing. I think pointless, cheesy, high-school romance flicks score over the boring "movie-with-that-social-theme" (provided it lacks that element of stale humour).
But its animated movies that top the list. I'd rather watch Ratatouile, Kung Fu Panda, Finding Nemo, Happy Feet, The Little Mermaid, Cinderella (animated, of course) than movies The Departed, (which I didn't like by the way. I watched it because I was on a train with a lot of free-time, nothing to do, and a laptop.) No Country For Old Men, Crash, and the like. Shocker, isn't it?
We live in a labyrinth of confusion, problems and negative energy. A little fantasy, away from reality never did any harm.
Probably, this is the reason why Enid Blyton, Grimms Fairy Tales and Hans Christian Anderson still top my list of books.
Often, its nice to imagine yourself in a different world, with different people. The mundane, monotony of life has blunted minds, evidently.

Oh, and Oreo Cheesecake is the second best dessert in the whole world. After Irish Truffles whisky chocolates. :-)

2009-04-10T09:12:00.000-07:00

Oh, and I finally did what I was apprehensive of doing. Take that. I am not quite so gutless after all.
Though the consequences might not turn out in my favour. This, I shall face. :-)

the thing that shields reality

2009-04-10T08:42:00.000-07:00

Beauty Pageants. This often gives me the image of an anorexic woman strutting about on a ramp scantily clad in a custom-made outfit tailored to give the illusion of curves and to obscure the prominent bones jutting from the body, on impossibly high stilletoes, hair perfectly coiffed and that simpering lip-sticked smile revealing artificially whitened teeth.
The extent women go to, to achieve certain standards of beauty is as disgusting as the concept of a woman strutting on a ramp, without an air of modesty, declaring that she will be instrumental in bringing about world-peace. I mean, who are we kidding?
In this male-dominant world, where women are still viewed as sex-symbols, and where the concept of a woman holding authority is still a tad too bitter to digest (for the MCPs, especially), the last thing we need at the moment is a beauty pageant, to just prove to the world that women are what they are construed to be. Airheads. Who go about proclaiming themselves to be pioneers of world-peace and proponents of charity. While all they have been doing is sitting in salons and shaping their lips, or trying to lose the non-existent flab from their bodies, to achieve the latest fad of the size-zero, alias, 'the skeleton physique'. More bones on display. The bonier, the sexier. It's amazing that these women don't shrivel up into nothingness.
Anyway, the Miss.India pageant recently held was no different from the other pageants. All the glitz, glamour and the usual flamboyance. The girls seemed skinnier, dumber and more plastic than ever (it was hard to decipher their expression because of the layers of gunk on their face). Even Barbie dolls seem to look more expressive.

And a pageant is just the last thing we need at the moment, when the world is in crisis, when the WTO is in a conundrum, when the economy is reeling in recession (the amount of money spent on reshaping the lips of ONE model could definitely feed a handful of malnourished children for one whole year!), when terrorism is on a high, when the President of Sudan has been arrested for genocide, when poverty continues to prevail, and when people in Somalia devour live rats to ward off hunger.
In the middle of this, we have a beauty pageant. And a hundred crores are spent to decide who is going to be the new 'Self-proclaimed plastic-faced, scantily-clad, body-displaying anorexic pioneer of world peace for the year.'
Hail, beauty pageants, hail.

That Thing Called Fate

2009-03-22T08:33:00.000-07:00

I have never believed in fate, kismet, destiny or any of this crap. Being agnostic, I often refuse to comment on the existence of God, or even that 'supernatural force' that some people claim to have experienced. I am not entirely atheist--I just refuse to believe. Moreover, I am fairly tolerant towards the temple-going/church-going/mosque-going/synagogue-going worshippers (provided I am not compelled pray in any of these places). I often think that some of us confuse psycogology with, well, life. There is almost always a scientific explanation for things that do occur, and if there isn't a scientific explanation, there soon will be one.
Fate, however, is something I have been forced to believe in. By this, however, I don't believe that there exists a book with your entire life mapped out for you, and that you will tread on the path that is written in the 'Holy Book.' No. Not that, though I am sure that our ancestors have hastened to believe in this concept of 'destiny' or 'fate').
What I believe in, however, is entirely different. Contrary to Paulo Coelho's philosophy as elucidated perfectly in his most inspiring book, 'The Alchemist', which states that man is the author 0f his life, I believe that there is only so much one can do to make things happen. When all possibilities are exhausted and you don't find any way out, maybe you just deserve what you get. This, I will not attribute to anything else.
Experiences teach you to believe in things you had never believed in before. They harden you, toughen you, and break the fragile exterior that often beholds a ton of strenght that you never new existed. They teach you to hope, not expect, to have faith, and just believe. And to quote my Political Science teacher, "They teach you to be grateful that you probably aren't one of the children in Somalia who are so famished that they devour rats."
And so, on my quest for that 'something' I've been looking for, I shall thank those people who were with me once, and the fact that they've decided to move on to better things shall not bother me, as I've decided to move on to. Maybe it is how it always was.

2009-03-15T13:55:00.000-07:00

Anarchy is something that ought to be implemented in law school. Contrary to the belief that anarchy often leads to chaos, anarchy reduces conflict and leads to harmony, since everyone acts in his/her own interest, and since interactions with others might harm one's personal interest, there becomes a neccessity to eliminate animosity for at least self interest, if not with good motive. Moreover, anarchists do not believe in siezure of power, but just dissolving it. Allowing people to act on their own, out of free-will. Enabling peace. Gandhiji staunchly believed in anarchy and went to the extent of opposing the state. He believed that the State represents violence in a concentrated and organized form. He said, "The individual has a soul, but as the State is a soulless machine, it can never be weaned from violence to which it owes its very existence. " In other words, he simply believed that the state symbol implied despotism, and concentration of power, which led to conflict, violence and other means of corruption that could easily percolate through channels. Eschew the fallacies and misconceptions we have lived with so far, why is it that there is hierarchy instead of democracy in educational institutions, especially law school?
We live in the epoch of democracy, a democratic nation, run by the people and for the people. Yet, even in law school, where democracy ought to be the strongest, there exists a hierarchy, an uppper hand that decides what you do. In law school, you don't get to choose what you want to be. You have a certain 'hierarchy' to do that for you, slap a label on your head and brand you. And you remain stuck with that brand, whether you like it or not, until you get hold of the power, that power which caused people to vy for each others blood.
In educational institutions, especially law school, anarchy and autonomy would hold best. We, the people ought to be allowed to decide for ourselves and to live by our own rules, and not ridiculous preposterous rules laid down by the 'upper hand', who often assumes the role of a harsh dictator, even at his very best. Then again, too much idealism was never good. Anarchy is one of the things that will never be accepted.
In a 'democratic nation', we will always be ruled by a Prime Minister and a President.
Likewise, wherever we go, whatever we do, we will be compelled to bow down to the force that will decide what we want to do, or who we want to be.
We do not live in a democratic nation. Today, there is no room for democracy. People's beliefs, people's necessitites are somehow never reflected even when legislations are enacted. Right up from the parliament to educational institutions, even law-school, which is to produce platoons of highbrows and future parliamentarians, perhaps, there only exists dictatorship.

2009-03-11T06:19:00.001-07:00

What am I thinking? I'll never pluck up the courage to go ahead with it. I'll probably return, with much clumsiness, and bring with me a cloud of that much anticipated, urgh 'nammy-ness'.

2009-03-11T06:02:00.000-07:00

I've taken a plunge, and am now teetering on the edge of a deep ravine, hoping for just an ounce of that 'luck factor', clinging onto the belief of the infrequent (yet) occuring of miracles.
University has, so far, been live-able thanks to the 'Group', that ensured that I always felt comfortable, and held my hand when I felt low, and thanks to a roommate who stood by me during some tough moments, and thanks to the few, the very few who had faith in me and who egged me to go on despite the innumerable convolutions I was tossed into.
Also, I've managed pretty decently, thanks to some peoples' extreme benevolence in terms of notes and food, before the exams, apart inordinate amounts of patience, without which I might have been whisked out of the Hostel. :-)
I've had those 'fun' moments that you know you can look onto ten years from now and laugh. I've had those not-so-fun moments too, which will still elicit a good many laughs ten years from now.
And yet, I've decided to take the plunge.
For the others: You will now have to resort to a few new 'someones'. I am sure that amidst the few nice individuals who will never gel with you and your small-minded, conventional beliefs and double-standards, you can find many such someones.

2009-02-27T23:42:00.000-08:00

I usually feel like writing or reading a fancy Secret-Seven (or Famous Five) mystery usually the night before an exam. I guess I am no different from anyone who wants to escape this awful ordeal of cramming useless, irrelevant bits of information, coupled with the not-so-infrequent use of abuse often directed at the teacher, or even at an equally disgruntled roommate. The semester so far has not been the least bit interesting, but well, there have been a few shocks, so I guess, that compensates for the lack of activity. The only interesting part of this semester was learning to play football for a sports-fest, which got postponed indefinitely, because the Director (or Dictator--refer Despot, which is a more appropriate name) feels that sports is an apparent waste of time for law students.
I often wish we had a campus life. Inter-college fests, sports-activities, concerts, and the like. But at University, campus life=NIL. It is the lack of activity, the lack of stuff to look forward to, the mentality of the people, and the fact that you find so few like-minded individuals in a place filled with people who seem like strangers, whichc throws you into depression-mode.
It is also the feeling you get when you expect something from someone whom you thought you had the right to expect something from, who lets you down very badly, even when she knows that it was, well, her duty to do what you expected her to do, since what you expected is something anyone would have done, then. And that is when you realize that you have so few people who will actually stand by you, and it is no point clutching onto those people who won't. They've chosen a different path. Let them go.
We learnt a poem in school called the 'Road Less Traveled'. I never remembered the verses of the poem, but I remember, ever so vividly, the gist of what it said. Often, I feel like I am treading on that road. The one that doesn't seem all that inviting, the one strewn with rocks...only, the poem says that the rocky path does lead somewhere. I do not know if I am going somewhere, anywhere. All I know is that with every step I take, the rocks under my foot hurt. But this just serves as an incentive to move on. To go in that direction. Because I believe that the rocky path does lead somewhere, whether it does, or doesn't. And if it doesn't, I'll think about it then. After all, tomorrow is another day.

Looking for a wall...

2009-02-13T02:46:00.004-08:00

On the day he took his Presidential Oath, he stood facing a crowd of over a billion, ready to bring about a new revolution, to mend the blunders wreaked by the man before him, to fight against the rebelling masses of the Middle-East with his sincerity, intelligence and conviction. He carried on his shoulders, the trust reposed by the entire world who were counting on him to make the change, that change, which would diminish the sardonic repercussions of the Sub-prime crisis, which would lessen the very ideals of war, and which would free themselves from the painful clutches of Religious-fanatics, who impugn the Western countries for tarnishing scarcely agreed upon social norms. He stands as an epitome of equality, an African-American, white teeth against ebony skin—the very skin that, at that standing alludes to the end of racism. Centuries ago, when America was caught in the labyrinth of the Civil War, when slavery prevailed, and when the blacks or the “niggers”, as they were referred to with utmost disparage, were treated as vermin, no one would have imagined that one day, one of them would stand and take a step forward to bring about a new world.
A graduate of Columbia University and Harvard Law School, he worked as a community organizer and practiced as a civil rights attorney before serving in the Illinois Senate. A man with undisputed intelligence, wit, ambition, charm and courage. One debonair man who will definitely infuse the world with a mélange of progress and peace, who will end the menace of war, who will tread on the path to triumph with much panache and who will never bask in glory. The Muslim blood that runs in his veins shall aid in nurturing peaceful ties with the oil-exporting countries.
The world can get ready for a new start. Meanwhile, we Indians can only hope that a Barack Obama will save our country someday.

The View From The Top

2009-01-25T20:03:00.001-08:00

My last day here. Exactly 24 hours from now, I'll be sitting on an airplane to Delhi, and will hopefully snag the window seat and will be peering out of the miniature window staring at the world below me, amidst swirls of clouds and the glaring light of the sun. That really is the best part of the airplane--staring below at the specks of houses, the tiny, narrow strips of roads and the dots of vehicles that mottle them and the vast stretches of semi-cultivated land...all while devouring airplane food, (which is not as bad as people usually say it is. I've eaten train-food, which is worse than the mess-food. So I am fine with airplane food). I love travelling by flight. Especially if the flight is at night. The view from the top is breathtaking. It reminds me of an inky-black velvet cloth with glittery stones strewn all over it. The glittery stones are visible through the swirls of inky-clouds and the milky-moonlight gives it a pale, pale glow if you notice carefully. And if you just happen to fly over the ocean (and you're not above the clouds), you see tiny ripples of water below, but only if you're very observant. These ripples seem to move with a certain soft, graceful cadence.
I love flying. The view from top is the best view there ever is.

Heading Back--to where I belong

2009-01-25T05:46:00.000-08:00

The time has come. For me to let go of this place called "home" and head back home. To where I belong. University.
I've raved and ranted and rambled about how much I hate the place. I've complained about the food, the people, the teachers, the administration, everything...I haven't said anything nice about the place. And now, I've exactly one day left at home, and I realize how much I miss University.
I miss the horrible food. Yes, I miss the dry, inedible chappatis and the watery dal, the dead-mosquitos floating on the drinking water in the mess, the campus, the classes, the library even (where I've spent maximum time chatting, gossiping, and sleeping), my room, my bed (I love the bed, by the way. Plump mattress, downy pillows, a warm, soft quilt and the teddy bear), the messy table, and most of all, the girls. Yes, I miss the stupid girls. We fight. We've hurt each other. Said some nasty things in the past. Bitched, even. But I miss them. I know that they're there for me (even though they'd probably deny it). I miss the late-night gossips, the 3 am sermons I've been forced to give over runny coffee, I miss barging into people's rooms begging them for something to eat at 3 am. I miss cuddling up under the covers in the cold and watching movies with the girls. I miss climbling balconies, the innuendos, the "girl-talk" (which involves the subject of you-kn0w-what. I miss the mall-trips. The movies. The kebabs. The iced-teas. The heated debates we have. The sad, sad, sad jokes that we crack, and then laugh hysterically over. The classes (where I spend maximum time talking, watching movies, listening to music and goofing). I even miss doing laundry and the argument that surfaces everytime my roomie and I do our laundry on the same day, as to who gets the clothes-line in our balcony.
Face it. University has become home. I still want don't want to be there forever, as I am incredibly apprehensive that it might consume the teeny bit of sanity left in me, along with every ounce of common sense I've known to display (not much of it, trust me). That, I do not need. My complains still hold. About the University.
It's just that I miss it.
The last month at University after the October-break, following a certain disastrous event that occured in the end of October and severed my ties with a few people I thought were my friends, was pretty awful. I was subjected to causticity at its heights and was pretty much dazed at the way things were turning out, that I chose to bury myself in my room, and hardly stepped out. I guess it really does take a while to read people correctly, and I have never known to make good judgments in the past, so for me, a while is a lot longer than the usual "while" other people would take. Well, the last month at University involved less outings, no walks around the campus, less food, and more lounging around in the room dressed in horrible hostel-wear, pulling a long face and making a fuss to even pull on a pair of jeans and walk ten steps to the Uncle's shop to buy coffee. Because, venturing out would mean running into people. And even the mere thought of that was petrifying.
It really is true. Friendships don't involve any of that thing called 'sentiment or emotion'. I've possibly watched a tad too many movies that have completely screwed-up my perception about certain things. One doesn't need friends, today. One just needs a few like-minded individuals to hang out with, who possess the humanitarian qualities of saving your butt when you majorly screw up. That is what friendship is about today.

Though, deep down, I do hope that my observation is wrong. Well, I'd better return to my packing now.

2009-01-24T21:44:00.000-08:00

The best song ever written by Billy Joel titled ,"We didn't start the Fire."
It says everything we'd have to say.

1949
Harry Truman
Doris day
Red China
Johnny Ray
South Pacific
Walter Winchell
Joe Di Maggio.

1950
Joe McCarthy
Richard Nixon
Studebaker
Television
North Korea
South Korea
Marilyn Monroe.

1951
Rosenbergs
H-Bomb
Sugar Ray
Panmunjom
Brando
The King And I and
The Catcher In The Rye

1952
Eisenhower
Vaccine
England's got a new queen
Marciano
Liberace
Santayana good-bye.

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
but we tried to fight it

1953
Joseph Stalin
Malenkov
Nasser and Prokofiev
Rockefeller
Campanella
Communist Bloc

1954
Roy Cohen
Juan Peron
Toscanini
Dacron
Dien Bien Phu falls
Rock Around The Clock

1955
Einstein
James Dean
Brooklyn's got a winning team
David Crockett
Peter Pan
Elvis Presley
Disneyland

1956
Bardot
Budapest
Alabama
Khrushchev
Princess Grace
Peyton Place
Trouble in the Suez
We didn't start the fire
It was always burnin since the world's been turnin
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it.

1957
Little Rock
Pasternak
Mickey Mantle
Kerouac
Sputnik
Chou En-Lai
Bridge On The River Kwai

1958
Lebanon
Charles de Gaulle
California baseball
Starkweather
Homicide
Children of Thalidomide

1959
Buddy Holly
Ben Hur
Space Monkey
Mafia
Hula Hoops
Castro
Edsel is a no-go

1960
U 2
Syngman Rhee
Payola and Kennedy
Chubby Checker
Psycho
Belgians in the Congo

We didn't start the fire
It was always burnin since the world's been turnin
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it...

1961
Hemingway
Eichmann
Stranger In A Strange Land
Dylan
Berlin
Bay Of Pigs Invasion

1962
Lawrence Of Arabia
British Beatlemania
Ole Miss
John Glenn
Liston beats Patterson

1963
Pope Paul
Malcolm X
British Politician Sex
J.F.K. blown away
What else do I have to say?

We didn't start the fire

64-89
Birth Control
Ho Chi Minh
Richard Nixon back again
Moonshot
Woodstock
Watergate
Punk Rock
Begin
Reagan
Palestine
Terror on the airline
Ayatollah's in Iran
Russians in Afghanistan
Wheel Of Fortune
Sally Ride
Heavy Metal
Suicide
Foreign debts
Homeless vets
AIDS
Crack
Bernie Goetz
Hypodermics on the shores
China's under martial law
Rock and Roller
Cola Wars
I can't take it anymore
We didn't start the fire
It was always burning since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
But when we are gone
Will it still burn on and on and on and on and on...??

And the last line, is the question I keep asking.

..............

2009-01-04T22:18:00.000-08:00

Here I am, at my internship place, blogging. I should be writing a report on the Right to Education campaign I've been working on. I haven't even started my presentation. Yet, its amazing how I seem to feel like typing pages of nothing only when I am confronted with work. It's not like I don't enjoy interning at this place. It's a lot of fun. One of those learning experiences, where you get to learn how things work, where you're made to do stuff that you don't particularly enjoy (like typing pages and pages of names and phone numbers). At this point, you realize that once you graduate from law-school, you DO NOT want to end up sitting before a computer in a posh, swanky office and well, typing a list of names and phone numbers. Because, well, this is NOT what we're all working our asses off for. (Not that we do do this thing called 'work'. This 'work' involves a lot of lazing around, procastinating, goofing about, and then, finally, sitting up one night before with watery, lukewarm coffee prepared by a sympathetic roommate).

As a part of this Right to Education campaign that I am organizing, we went to this tiny, inconspicious slum-area in the vicinity of the city. The road that led to the slum was sandwiched between a large conglomerate and a huge tank. This road is unnoticeable. Often overlooked by the masses. This slum area is probably the worst one in the whole state of Tamil Nadu. I refuse to be descriptive, at this point. But I hope you can get the picture. We went to a large bus-depot, which seemed to occupy a good chunk of the land that was to be used for residential purposes, and summoned a couple of the rural folk. They nearly mobbed us and very barbarically began yelling out their problems, yelling at each other, trodding on each other's feet. This nearly turned into an affray, and it took a ton of energy and austerity to calm them down and get them to shut up. They went about ranting their problems, and then, it took me by shock to realize that the Government had completely neglected this area and had even cut them off electricity and clean water, let alone the others.

The residents there lived in huts. Not even tenements, but crude, hand-made huts, constructed with straw, wood, hay and mud. They didn't have clean water to drink, or even dirty water, for that matter. Water and electricity hadn't been supplied to them in ages. People were dying of thirst and hunger. This organization had previously filed an RTI demanding the amount of money that was to be channeled towards this particular slum, but it went ignored.
For a second, I felt like running away from it all. I was sick of the grubby streets, the stale air, and the angry masses surrounding me, asphyxiating me with their problems. And then, I looked into the eyes of a small four year boy. His eyes were large, nearly disappearing into an emaciated, sunken face. He had bald patches on his head that I am sure wasn't created with a razor, and his body was so skinny that I could nearly see his ribs jutting out. He tugged at my leg and looked at me, and in those large, impassive eyes that were devoid of expression, I saw a tiny flicker of hope. The feeling of running ebbed away and was replaced with remorse, with anger towards myself and a million other people who probably felt this way and let them suffer. I thought of the million children here, who were dying because they didn't get food. I thought of those children who scraped the ashes from pots that were used for cooking, to eat, and this was probably all that they got to eat for two whole days.

This organization isn't doing anything, apart from filing RTIs (I drafted one a couple of days back) and interacting with the rural folk, giving them a patient hearing. RTIs only reach deaf ears. They reach people who don't care. Selfish people.
The residents of this slum area are desperate. They want to live. They are desperate to survive. Their mere sustainance has to be fought for. They live like animals. And the Government doesn't care. We who live in actual houses, not made out of mud and straw, and who eat more than one meal a day, don't care.

We think we can't do anything about it. But we can. We actually, really can. But then again, we're human. People are greedy. They'd rather work in a fancy corporate firm and live in a cosy penthouse than deal with this.
I still shudder when I think of those large pair of eyes. And now is when I realize, I won't stop here. I'll continue.

2009-01-01T22:57:00.000-08:00

Hey.

Its 2009. Finally, truly 2009. 2008 is gone. Dead, and over. And I guess, the better is yet to come. (See, I can sound optimistic, if I really try. And I am trying to live up to those New Year Resolutions. I really am.)

I am not supposed to be blogging now. I'm at my internship, supposed to be drafting an RTI (which I didn't know how to, until a few minutes ago). I guess this is the benefit of sitting before a computer with internet, and no one checking in on me. I can blog, go on orkut, facebook, even chat a bit, and stuff, without being noticed. I know, it's horrible of me to do this during internship hours, but I don't really have much work here, and it does get boring reading pages and pages about the Right to Education model bill. So, when I feel that my pea-sized brain needs well, a bit of rest, I go online. I vaguely remember a concept propounded by Henry Fayol, called fatigue study. (This, I remember mugging in Business Studies, one of the useless papers I had to write in XII std). This concept said something about needing to refresh after long hours of work, as excessive working could only slow down the speeed and efficiency of work. Like we didn't already know that.

Isn't it ironic that when you're in school, you yearn to be in college. You want to get rid of the hideous uniform that makes you look fat, you want to pick your own trendy clothes, you want freedom. A ton of freedom. Freedom to go where you want, eat what you want, freedom to make your own choices and decisions. You yearn to be in University.

Once you get there, you realize how much of school you miss. I've realized it. It's at this moment that I choose to recollect a couple of those 'school moments' that I just can't forget.

On a Sunday afternoon, a few friends and I, who were engaged in backstage organizing of the play put up by our school theatre (which is an official theatre group now, by the way), went to this big, fancy mall, wearing hideous unisex T-shirts of our school theatre group, to advertise and do promos of the play. Anyway, we went to Landmark and kept our bags at the counter there, and the security guard gave us a token, which I took. We spent the whole afternoon and evening engaged in promos, till we decided to go and grab a bite for dinner.

We went to one of those swanky coffee-pubs in the mall, surrounded by well-dressed people, and we felt incredibly foolish in a T-shirt three times our sizes. We looked like those salespeople trying to dispose off a battered product (which is what we were, basically. Salespeople. But our product wasn't battered). Anyway, after we stuffed our faces, our tables were cleared, when suddenly, my friend pointed out the Landmark token had disappeared along with the trays.

We asked the servers there, but they had no clue. "Must be in the dustbin, along with the leftover food. That's where we dump the junk on the trays." One of them said. I cringed, and looked at my friend.

"Don't look at me. The token was your responsibility. I gave it to you, and well, you very intelligently put it on the tray to be disposed, instead of in your pocket, which is where normal people put stuff in."

I looked at the server with imploring eyes, but he only pointed to a huge, ugly orange bin that was near the door, and very much within the view of everyone in the pub, and a lot of people outside as well, who decided to cross the transparent glass doors.
My friends, just then, decided to be not-so-supportive. "You put the token there. You get it out. You had better get it out. Our bags are in there as well."

And then, I had to do it. I crouched down, in front of a million people, and stuck my hand inside the dustbin. My fingers encountered half-eaten hamburgers, a piece of cake, something cold and mushy that I don't wish to further imagine, before finally closing in on the token, which was covered in ketchup. As I extracted the token from the dustbin, I realized that the whole coffee-pub had been silent, watching. Then, they erupted into laughter. Yep. I was the girl-who-stuck-her-hand-inside-the-dustbin.

I laughed too, after washing my hands. It was funny. Hilarious, actually. And now, I make sure that I never leave anything on the trays. A lesson, well-learned, I must say.

But well, garnering publicity for the play was oodles of fun. I remember cruising down the traffic-jammed streets of the city, with a friend, in the Headmistress's car, with the windows rolled down and blasting loud rock music (which we played on the stereo...we gave her driver quite a headache, mind you. But he was a sweetheart. He never ratted on us, and allowed the good-girl impression my friend and I had, to remain). We visited Barista frequently, in-between meetings with those snooty bigwigs, (we even had a meeting with Kareena Kapoor, Shahid Kapoor, Suniel Shetty, and Neha Dhupia, when they were in Chennai at that time, shooting for their movie Chup Chup Ke. Not that it mattered much. I do not go crazy at the sight of Bollywood stars, like some people I know, would) and well, gorged on chocolate excess cakes and brownies and frappes with chocolate sauce, ice-cream and whipped cream--get this--all on school money. The school funded our eating sprees at other expensive joints too (but they had no clue about this, mind you). Was just a token we took for ourselves, for all our hardwork. We officially bunked classes. We smart-talked our way out of the school and toured the city, nearly every day, for two whole months.

We've done other wild stuff too. In X std, I remember, a friend and I bunked our English Pre-board exams and went to the cinema to watch a movie. It was this chick-flick called 'In Her Shoes'. (I was into not-very-substantial boy-meets-girl romantic comedies back then, and movies like In Her Shoes were a delight to my idealistic visions of life where important things were lost in clouds of oblivion, or, never existed, in my case). Anyway, I did tell my parents this, only after the board results were out (two months later) and they were appalled. To think that I was gutsy enough to bunk an exam and watch a movie.

Well, that's me. I used to do things like this all the time. And then, XII std happened. This whole you-need-to-think-about-your career thing. Its amusing how one's career can completely transform a person and turn them into someone who scorns at those who don't have things figured out, or who have absolutely no clue as to what they want to do.

Anyway, I'll go back and delve into those good ol' school memories. University is fun too. In some ways. Very few ways, but yes, fun.

the new year

2008-12-31T05:41:00.000-08:00

On December 31st 2007, I wished for 2008 to be a good year. At that moment, I was apprehensive about the future. I wished, with all my heart, to get into a good law school, to become what I wanted to become. I wished for opportunities. I wished for affection. I wished for contentment. Satisfaction. Nothing happened. 2008 turned out to be just the opposite of what I wanted. I got neither opportunities, nor satisfaction. I was always just filled with a hollow emptiness. A void deep down. But then, I realize, had I got everything I wanted, I wouldn't be the way I am today, now. I've learnt. Life goes out to teach us so many things, in it's own small way. So what, I didn't make it to what I considered the best law school. So what if three fourth of the population there hate me for some effed-up reason. So what if I have had to deal with so many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many MANY MANY effed up things. I now realize that this has just made me stronger. I can handle anything. Anything. I'm a surviver. I won't let anything--any detractors, affect me. I will live. Will handle things. With all the calm I can muster.
Tonight, I shall wish for nothing. I shall expect nothing. I will hope, but not expect. Expectations have never worked for me. Whatever 2009 has in store for me, I will deal with, be it good or bad.
So here's to a New Year.
A great one.

2008-12-24T08:37:00.001-08:00

After my two previous posts, everyone is going to hate me. Cuz I haven't said anything nice.

ramblings of an insane person.

2008-12-24T08:23:00.000-08:00

I bombed CLAT 08 so bad that I’m stuck in a screwed up place I don’t want to be in. In a place where EVERYTHING is so screwed up, there’s no word for it. I mean, even searching for a word in the stupid GRE master word list that comprises 4500 words (which I learnt for CLAT 08, by the way. And I don’t remember any, because they didn’t make sense to me at the time. I believe vocabulary is picked up from reading a variety of books, and my taste in books is eclectic, which is a good thing. Anyway, the master word-list they make us learn is so pointless, because after the exam, you don’t remember all that shit. And nobody speaks like that anyway. For instance, gerrymander according to the GRE book, means, to manipulate. So how do we use this word? She was being gerrymandered?!!! Really.) is pointless. Because the most appropriate word I can find to describe the debacle I’ve conveniently gotten myself into, is ‘screwed-up’. CLAT 08 was a bitch.
But I can’t prepare for CLAT 09. It’s so difficult, when I am already in law school (which is a bitch, by the way. I don’t like it there. Right from the filthy streets, to the people, their attitude, their lackadaisical, I-don’t-give-a-shit demeanor, the significance they attach to stuff that doesn’t matter, like, well, clothes, for instance. The guys actually try to judge a girl’s personality by the footwear she wears. This is crazy, as some of us, who attend class bleary-eyed and half-asleep, don’t care a fuck about clothes and sometimes saunter into class in bathroom slippers and a night-shirt. Because, we don’t care. Oh, and it just drives me crazy that the guys actually sit around in their rooms and compare girls’ boob-sizes. We don’t sit around in our rooms comparing the sizes of their stuff. Because we don’t care. And well, the politics. Dirty, disgusting, inducing-bile-to-rise-in-the-throat politics.)
I prepared a fuck lot last time and got stuck here. Big chance I’m just wasting my time. And anyway, I think I’ve given up. I wish I could stick my head in a barrel of tepid water and drown. That way, I won’t have to think about all this.
Why is it that some of us have to deal with so much, while the rest have it so easy? Why couldn’t I have an IQ of 500 so I can crack the bitching CLAT without studying? Or at least, why can’t SOMEONE give me an assurance that if I waste my time and flunk my end semesters studying for CLAT, I’ll get through somewhere? Why is it that I have to prepare with the big possibility that I could flunk my end semesters and end up nowhere? (This possibility is likely to come true, as I haven’t had the best things happening to me lately.) Though I’m pretty agnostic, I’m forced to believe my grandmother, who says that I have Satan’s reflection on me. Some screwed up order of the planets, which isn’t good for me, or something. Which is crazy, because I never believed in all this. Going to temples to ward off Saturn, and stuff. But I’ve actually started to consider it.
This doesn’t mean I will consent going to the temple my parents have been nagging me to go to. I’ll sweat it out in the gym if getting in shape is what I want, but I will NOT wear a hot, uncomfortable salwar and walk a million kilometers barefoot at 3 am in the biting cold, just to go and worship a ridiculous block of stone, after being jostled and nearly knocked down by a mob of religious fanatics who spend more time worshipping various blocks of stone, than doing anything constructive. Not that I have anything constructive to do. At least, I don't worship inanimate objects. I will not. This is the problem, being born into a religious family, where people actually believe in God, and demons and stuff.
So let all the effing planets reflect their negative rays on me. What’s the worse that can happen? I’m all geared up to face the challenge. Try killing me. I won’t go so easily. I’ll live, and see it all. They say that only bad people live long. Since we’ve already established from my previous post that I’m stupid, I can go all out to say that I am bad. I offend everyone’s religious sentiments by scandalizing God, committing blasphemy. I’ve plotted the death of many in my head, and have nearly gotten around to executing it, though I eventually chickened out, because of the fact that my methods of murder are usually brutal and violent, and I can’t quite stand the sight of blood and gore. And moreover, I’m too financially unequipped to hire someone to do the deed. Oh, I also shoplift. I used to flick candy from the department store when I was five-years old. And no, I am not a kleptomaniac. So, as we can all see, I am a stupid, bad and cowardly person. And I will live long. Very, very long. Reveling in all stupidity. So Saturn cannot kill me.
And I will not visit that effing temple. Though, I am certain that when I explain this to my parents, they will probably assume that I am insane, which I probably am. I wouldn’t know, would I? Insane people usually never admit that they’re insane.

The Stupid New Year's Resolutions that i know i wont keep

2008-12-24T08:10:00.000-08:00

New Year’s resolutions never really work for me. I think its pointless making them, since I never really adhere to them, or even make a conscious effort to do so, for that matter. But what the heck, I’ll try, all the same. So here goes:

I’d like to be less sensitive, and a lot less emotional. Sometimes, I am amazed at how I allow small, tiny things to get to me.
I’d like to be less irritable, and more tolerant, especially towards people I don’t particularly like. I’ve spent the better part of my life making snide and sarcastic remarks at people who somehow seem to get on my nerves and I think this needs to change, because some of the people I don’t like, don’t know that I don’t like them, and consider me their ‘friend’, and I feel petty after I’ve said a thing or two to them.
I’d like to be less cynical, less critical of everything. I’ve only just realized that I seem to have a problem with everything, and this, stems from immensely high expectations. What, did I really expect University to be like an Ivy League school? I knew where I was headed for, when I decided to study there. And then, I go about turning my nose down at everything. This has got to stop. I will be more accommodating, and will accept things the way they are, because, there is a huge chance that it might not change, and however lousy things are, I’ll have to deal with them, so no point lamenting about it.
I’d like to stop trying to change things. Things won’t change. They just won’t. My University is not going to be a miracle in any way. So I’ll have to stop rebelling, stop marching to the faculty with petitions, which is eventually sent to the Uncle’s shop, to wrap stale patties. Yes, that’s where they send our projects, by the way. When we had a canteen (we don’t have a canteen anymore), the samosas and patties a bunch of us bought were wrapped up in scraps of paper that turned out to be excerpts from someone’s Criminal law project. And even our grand-intra moot court competition memorials were sent to wrap puffs and stuff in the canteen. I know, because I once ate a samosa that was wrapped in someone’s statement of jurisdiction. To think we invest so much effort in projects just so that it can be used to wrap stale food in. Anyway, I’ll just have to shut up and watch the University commit suicide, and carry with it, the careers of many.
I will not be rude to those people who sweep my room, the jhadu-walis. I will not bang doors on their faces, even though they come to sweep the room at eight in the morning (and I’ve probably had only two hours of sleep).
I will not bunk too many classes. I will attend all classes, including Sociology, and will actually take notes in class. I will attend those stupid Spanish classes I signed up for, which are at eight in the morning. And I will take notes there as well. I will not sleep or listen to music or watch movies on someone’s laptop in class. I will pay attention. I really will. I’ll stop banging on people’s room-doors one night before the exam, begging for notes to study from. I’ll have notes of my own.
I will somehow learn proper Hindi, and will stop trying to explain things in English, when I know people won’t understand. And I’ll ignore anyone who laughs at my Hindi, which I know, sounds extremely ridiculous with the South-Indian accent and all.
I will stop looking at everyone’s faults. I am not perfect, and neither are the people I live with. So I will accept them the way they are, the way they’ve accepted me the way I am, with my numerous idiosyncrasies. I have found a few people who will definitely watch my back when I screw up (which is pretty often), despite the fact that I am very cynical, pessimistic and sarcastic almost all the time. And as for the people I truly dislike, I will stop making it so obvious. Peace, all.
I will write that novel I’ve begun. I will complete the novel before I graduate to the next year (if I do graduate, that is). But I just might, in case I do adhere to resolution number 6, that is, to attend classes.
I will swallow my pride, and everything that goes with it, and give CLAT again. I will be bold about it. I will NOT wallow in self-pity, I will NOT blame the screwed-up system or criticize the reservation policy and all. I will prepare, and I will write it, even if I might probably make a big jackass of myself by winding up with the same rank (or a worse one, judging my complete lack of focus or commitment, now). Even if the chances of becoming the laughing-stock of this world with a rank as low as 10000 are pretty high (I will be a laughingstock, since I’d be a very incapable second-timer who’s already had a year in law-school—not that the place I study in is a typical law-school law school. If you know what I mean), I will give CLAT. With preparation of course. I will study, as much as I did last year. And well, if I DO wind up with an effed-up rank, then I guess I am free to wallow in self-pity and blame the system, which I did a lot, last time. But not until then.

In all likelihood, I won’t keep up any of these resolutions, except for number 9, and probably number 10. My novel has progressed to a great extent. I might even complete it in about two months. And as for CLAT, well, I’ve learnt this saying in Hindi, ‘Ghoda bhi ud sakta hain’. (Direct translation for Hindi-spastic people like me: Even a horse could probably fly. Basically, it means that absurd stuff does happen, but clearing CLAT certainly isn’t going to be one of them). Well, I’ll do it, all the same. Give CLAT, that is. Clearing it isn’t in my hands, now. And I’ll do my best to not feel stupid once the results are out.

Oh, and I am sick of people telling me that I have potential, and am intelligent and stuff. Because I am not. I’m pretty stupid. This isn’t lack of self-esteem speaking. This is a pretty blatant fact. Otherwise anyone who prepared half as much as I did, wouldn’t fuck up the paper as bad as I did. See? I’m stupid. Though, I must admit, however stupid I am, I still don’t deserve to be where I am. I just wish that this world would be nicer to stupid people. In fact, they should have this IQ test, and those below the IQ required to clear CLAT, (which is by the way, probably an IQ of 200, in my estimation), deserve a stupid-quota reservation. You know, a minimum of ten seats in every university for stupid people. Then, I’d probably make it somewhere. Not in the best, judging that I am not intelligently stupid or anything (I’m probably stupidly stupid, if this makes sense), but at least some place better than where I am now. But unfortunately, stupid people aren’t given any importance. They’re forced to compete with the better endowed members of the society. So I’ll have to gnaw my nails and cry my eyes out trying to figure out the cost price of an effing apple, which is in NO way related to law, I can tell you. I’ve been in law school for a semester and I don’t understand the point of having to solve a math section in the entrance exam.
I guess the people setting the paper have decided the math section to be the ultimate procedure for filtering out stupid people, like me, who are SO stupid that they can’t figure out the cost price of an apple, even though they’ve mugged the formula to do so, probably because they've added 2+2=5. That would be me.
I should file a PIL, demanding reservation for stupid people. I guess after spending five years in the place I am in presently, I’ll end up either unemployed, or I’ll work for a third-rate law firm where I’ll be serving coffee to a paan-chewing, beer-bellied boss, who speaks crassly and who belches noisily. This way, in-between making coffee, I’ll have all the time in the world to file a PIL demanding reservation for stupid people in ALL entrance exams. That way, even people like ME will have the option of a remotely bright future.
Ok, I’ll shut up now. This just goes to reinforce the fact that I am stupid. And the next person who dares to say I am not, will have a moldy sock belonging to a certain person I know who wears the same pair of socks for a LONG time, stuffed down his/her throat. This, I can assure you, is the most painful form of death. And if it doesn’t lead to death, it still constitutes as battery inflicted by odor. So you can still sue me. Unless I decide to sue you first.

my list

2008-11-16T22:49:00.000-08:00

The list I made during my first week at law school:

Things I want to do During My Five Years In Law School

Be a 10 pointer
Win an international level mooting competition
Get my article published in Harvard Law Journal
Intern at Amarchand Mangaldas
Write a book about life at law school and get it published
Fall in love J

The list I made after one semester:

Things I want to do in THIS Law school if I don’t clear CLAT and am stuck here:
Be a rebel. Revolt against the administration. Stick my tongue out at the director
Since the college won’t send me to moot in all likelihood, protest against the shocking arbitrariness and be VERY abusive.
Form my own debating committee.
Kick any guy who tries to mess with me in the nuts.
Become a raving alcoholic.
Not have any arrears. Who cares about being a ten-pointer?
Fall in Love? No way. What was I thinking?
Write a book about life at hell—oops I mean, law school and get it published. If this happens, I’ll mention names and the first page will say… “All the characters in the book are fictional and if you happen to find your name in it, it’s purely coincidental.”

more nonsense.

2008-11-10T06:29:00.000-08:00

I don't know what is becoming of this tiny world we live in called 'country', and frankly, I am starting to care less. Maybe it's because some of us are giving up hope on the system that fails to cater to what is ought to cater, and which allows a million flaws to permeate through. I might sound cynical, but well, we're all powerless souls caught in the labyrinth of tyranny inflicted upon the state by people who possess power, misappropriately used. The misery created by Raj Thackeray is unpardonable, but ultimately, it is only power that counts, which is why he was allowed to go scot-free. Justice is never served.
As a law student, its awfully difficult to digest injustice that happens everywhere, every milli-second. And it's even more difficult since I study in a place where power holds over merit, and everytime you try to be different from the heap, there are vicious hands vying for your blood, clawing and frantically trying to pull you down and drag you to their incomprehensible level of inhumane barbarianism. You're asphyxiated by the manacles of a system that only succeeds in extinguishing the spark of enthusiasm that rests within you and saps you off energy, leaving you feeling crestfallen and hollow.

We live in an epoch where people in college are smitten by the Hindi-movie romances they see onscreen. Boy meets girl, they fall in 'love' within a span of few months, pour their hearts out to each other, and blah-blah-blah. Where have my fellow law students thrown their common sense?

And among all the other things that dont make sense, there is mooting. Mooting is the biggest fad in law school. It's considered fancy even. The hours of hardwork that go into preparing a memorial on a subject you have hardly any idea about, however, crumbles when you stand before the bench, and the useless judge (who is probably in an extremely bad mood that day) decides to vent his anger on you and grill you on some irrelevant tiny detail that needs a magnifying glass to be looked at. When your hardwork is reduced to dust, there are a million fingers pointing at you, not appreciating the fact that you've worked hard and done well, but actually trying to stamp out the tiny spark within you that yearns to be rekindled. Enthusiasm.

The system in most law schools (including the place I study in) sucks. There's no better substitute for the word. Apart from being infused with shocking arbitrariness, these so-called rules formulated by a bunch of hoity-toity seniors who think the world of themselves are often amended to suit their convenience. Any form of assertiveness exerted by some of us who possess more common sense than the rest is misconstrued as rebellion. So be it. The system that is full of loopholes demands rebellion, and if we all have to pelt the posh, glass windows of the administrative block with rotten tomatoes, so be it. However, this never happens.
You see, when you move forward to represent a chunk of people who are not bold enough to stand up for themselves, you automatically assume that you will be backed by your peers. But when you're too deep in the hole you've dug, you realize that you're alone. Those people you represent fail to watch you back.
Not even a semester is over, and already, law school seems to have sapped the energy out of me. Everytime you want to do something, there are ten people you go against. The politics within the college is disgusting, yet, so hard to keep out of. Once you're in it, there's no way to avoid the loathsome glares and the whisperings.
For those of you misconstrue my enthusiasm as being an opportunistic know-it-all, I couldn't care less. We're law students, living in a country that believes in democracy, and we shall ensure that justice prevails. Even if we have to revolt against the unreasonable, floating system established by the seniors, we will do so.

???

2008-07-11T19:50:00.000-07:00

The Indian judicial system has gone to the dogs. The very poorly handled Aarushi murder case just goes all out to reinforce the fact that the police and investigating team in our country are useless and that the judicial system is disintegrating. The Indian police catch a tiger, beat it, flog it and nearly force it to admit that its not a tiger, but a cat. And the bloodthirsty media is waiting hungrily to devour every teeny bit of information they get (they're least bothered whether the information is a fact or a fib), so that they can blow it out of proportion and have it on every news channel, every newspaper. And the criminal lawyer who is defending the poor accused who is very evidently, innocent? He gives an impression that he has just about scraped through some third-rate law school and is trying his best to prove himself as a fairly good criminal lawyer so that he can earn his daily bread, but in vain. He's dumb. There's no better way to put it. He's incapable of answering questions and raising objections, incapable of doing what he is supposed to do, what he is paid to do. Ensure justice. I'm not surprised.
With all the lawyers in our country vying to earn big bucks in corporate firms, the sole purpose of law (which is, to ensure that there is justice) is lost. Every law school graduate is content with the mere thought of sitting at some corporate firm, as long as they're able to buy that snazzy BMW and all the latest gadgets. And justice? Who cares that the whole country is falling apart! We've spent every single day and night in law school freezing our asses over inordinately fat law books and absurdly tough assignments, and it was the prospect of earning the big buck that kept us going. Why should we defend some pathetic soul who has been wrongly accused of crime--a court case that is likely to drag on for years (knowing our wonderful judicial system), and we'd hardly eat three square-meals a day with the money we make for that. We didn't spend a fortune on law-school to spend the rest of our lives in penury!
And so, its only those 'incorrigibly dumb' people who don't snag a job at those million-bucks-paying corporate firms who despondently decide to opt for criminal law (out of no other choice). And whilst three fourth of these 'lawyers' defend the criminals (for money, of course. We'd do anything for money, wouldnt we?), the remaining one-fourth who choose to defend the innocent blink dumbly at everyone and choose to keep their mouths shut.
The lack of good lawyers in our country, in addition to the glorious judicial system that continues to prevail (and shall do so, for a long long time), all contributes to the backwardness of our country.
Dr. Rajesh Talwar, besides losing his only daughter (that was concieved five years after marriage, with the aid of some high-tech equipment, as his wife underwent some complications), also lost his job, his reputation, and everything that constituted his life. And the extremely inefficient, lazy police not only framed Dr. Talwar (with what they considered to be 'evidence', which was nothing but a couple of unanswered questions), but they also took pleasure in maligning the reputation of his family. The media just added fuel to the fire, but implying that Dr. Talwar was in an extra-marital relationship, and killed his daughter when he found her sleeping with the servant.
The lawyer, Mr. Pinaki Mishra, was incapable of defending his client. Al their appeals for bails failed, as Dr. Talwar was retained in police custody. The UP police were thrilled. The case was closed. Dr. Talwar murdered his child. They were least bothered whether he was guilty or not. They wanted to close the case. That's all.
The question is, isn't it always innocent until proven guilty? In this case, Dr. Talwar was evidently not proven guilty. He wasn't proven innocent either, but there was no strong enough evidence to imply that he had killed his daughter. Then, how on earth could his lawyer allow him to stay in jail?
Once the CBI took over the case, they were convinced that Dr. Talwar was innocent, but they couldn't let him get off immediately. They would only jeopardize the reputation of the UP police. So, they retained him again and continued their investigation.
No one was able to solve the case. It was a confession from the actual killer during the narco test that finally brought light. Until then, Dr. Rajesh Talwar was considered the murderer.
The next question is, if the real murderer had not owned up, then would Rajesh Talwar have been released from custody? I doubt. He was first of all wrongly framed, with absolutely no evidence, and after sensationalizing the incident so much, it was essential to close the case once and for all. The question of justice never arose. It all came down to completing the business.
That's what it all boils down to, ultimately.
Money. And doing the job. Not doing it correctly, but just doing it.
And whilst all the lawyers continue to march with the baton towards those corporate law firms that guarantees them the materialistic delights of life, we can watch our country collapsing. In glee.

Musings....

2008-07-11T05:01:00.000-07:00

This is going to come out sounding very bitter and sardonic and if I do offend any patriotic 'I worship the soil we walk on types', I'm least bothered. While we've so far been looking at the world from behind rose-tinted glasses, it's time that (some of us) take them off and actually look. A few years back, Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam wrote a book titled Vision 2020 and said that by 2020 India will become one of the super-powers, and will even surpass US. Nearly a decade has passed since he said that, and our quest towards achieving that status has progressed very marginally, if it has progressed at all. While we believe we're living in a place that has offered us all that it could in its capacity, little do we realize that this 'capacity' has not yet been defined. And it probably never will.
Going back in time, there was the biggest debacle that nearly shook the flimsy foundation that this world is constructed upon. The world wars. It was the impact of the second World War (following the Treaty of Versailles signed by a defeated Germany) that dropped the biggest bomb. Back then, India was still under the mercy of the British, fighting for freedom, fighting for peace, with Gandhiji advocating non-violence and ahimsa, which is evident from the very fact that he touted tolerance in an open letter addressed to Adolf Hitler. Several other Indian leaders and politicians expressed concern over the rise of Fascism and Nazism and supported the British cause, as opposed to taking the neutral stance that they had always chosen, until then.
Either way, India was unscathed by the impact of the World War, which left the entire globe restless and panic-stricken. The fight for freedom continued, using the tools of peace and non-violence. And then, freedom was granted. Gandhiji and the other preachers of peace and non-violence were assassinated. The turmoil began. When the British evacuated India after stripping it of its wealth, penury prevailed. Post Gandhian era, India even broke its ethical code of non-violence (surprise!) by entering into war with Pakistan.
The newly constituted British-free government strived to elevate the downtrodden by implementing poverty-alleviation programs, employment schemes, and even including reservations for the backward classes in most education institutions.
The plight improved. But marginally.
Because, despite the initiatives taken to bring about the change, the very desire to be a part of a new and better environment does not exist. People dont want to study or work. Education is a burden. They'd much rather live. Just exist and then leave the earth. Then there are the class of people who want to enjoy opulence without working for it. They find illicit ways of making fast and good money, and they are the quittessential elements of corruption, dishonesty. And then, there are the middle-class people, who pinch pennies, acquire a respectable degree and earn a respectable salary at a 9-5 job. They're happy. They're able to afford meals and a roof over their head. It ends there.
The desire to bring about a change is lost under a flurry of selfishness, avarice and yes, even fear. Fear that if they speak out, they will be condemned to a life of fear, a life similiar to the famous writer, Taslima Nasreen, who even now fears to touch the Pakistan soil lest they chop off her head.
So the quest to continues, but in vain. Those who give up hope, gladly leave the country to serve a foreign land, whilst we continue to grapple with the basic task of shoving food down our throats.
Japan, is a classic example of a country that has strived to progress over the years. After combatting poverty and unemployment, they have started to see the better side of the world, whilst the Indian hyprocrites continue to brag about how their "rich culture and heritage" (ahem--We're somewhere at the top in AIDS, and we have politicians who follow bigamy and sometimes, god forbid, even polyogamy) compensates for the lack of overall development.
I hope I am not brutally slain for this post. Peace, all.

A Tribute to my school........

2008-05-22T01:05:00.000-07:00

I went to school today to collect my marksheets. As I walked across the stretch of sand that led to the school building, I was twinged with pangs of nostalgia. I thought about those days when I sported the prefect-badge and strutted around the school exuding an air of confidence and authority. The memories came crashing down on me, as I smiled at the familiar faces that now had a distant, faraway look in their eyes. I further made my way down the long corridor, which was mottled with a certain familiar faces that all stared at me. Some whispered. Some smiled. I had a customory smile plastered on my face, as I walked down the endless corridor that was so silent that I could hear my own breathing. That corridor had always been my favorite. It invokes pleasant memories of the eleventh grade, when our class was labelled the 'Noisiest class'. That corridor reminds me of slipping out of classes, sneaking in when no one was looking, meaningful conversations with special people who have made a difference in my life, bunking classes and having no place to go, being a dutiful prefect during school assemblies, conversations with teachers, some whom I liked, and some I didn't get along with, sharing Pepsi from the canteen, sucking on smuggled-in Fun oranges, turning my nose up at the gang of sweaty guys who crowd around the water-cooler after playing football in the field. I yearn to enter the eleventh-grade classroom, but it is locked. The eleventh grade classroom is my favorite. I sat in the front bench, right next to the window, where I would look out and stare at the field during exceptionally boring Economics classes. Sitting in the corner had its own advantages. I often sent smses during classes (I attended very few classes back then), and would whisper to the person sitting next to me and the people behind me. We never did our work. Fat accounts textbooks were untouched and were used as pillows to rest our heads on. Free periods ensured that the class was always empty. The classroom was perennially filled with excited screaming students hooting away and kicking the football around, throwing chalk, and well, there were even ink-fights and water-fights. Classes were never taken seriously. Half the time, we'd bunk classes, and the very few classes that we DID attend were spent sending smses under the desk, listening to music in the last row and scrawling our names on the much-abused benches in fancy calligraphy. Eleventh-grade was fun. We were all a bunch of people who didn't look too far into the future, who lived for the moment, and who had no idea what it would be like stepping out. It was something very few of us even considered. We went about chasing butterflies and building sand castles in the air. At that time, nothing mattered.

The eleventh-grade annual exams, however, were a shock to all of us, and the aftermath of it was even worse. Following the final exams, we lost a person who was the quittissential element of our class, a loved one. Suddenly, not everything seemed all that rosy as it did. Gone was the laughter and the hooting. We were too shocked to even shed tears. That incident taught us the value of life, and that it takes just seconds for a card house to come crumbling down to nothing. It sent out a message that we were all born for a purpose, to make a difference to the society. It wasn't all about coming to school, bunking classes, and wallowing in merriment. The other side of it had always been left unexplored.

Twelfth-grade began, and suddenly, things weren't the same again. The merriment mellowed down, and people were infused with ambition. Some were still scarred from the incident, some even sardonic about the whole thing, but there was a very flimsy thread that held everyone together. Suddenly, that flimsy thread broke. Meaningful friendships turned into superficial hi-byes, people had fall-outs, there were ego-clashes, people were out to get each others backs. There was fierce competition among a few. They wanted to do well, even if it meant stepping on other peoples' toes. A couple of them slacked away, and indulged in various other activities that kept them happy. Hearts were broken. Friendships seemed to have acquired a very empty meaning to it. Superficiality continued to prevail. I was lost in a sea of people, who suddenly seemed to be very different. Or maybe, I was very different from the rest. I sought solace in studying and books, and decided to keep to myself. I didn't want to play the game that everyone else was playing. I had too much to lose and nearly nothing to gain. These new friendships that replaced the meaningful ones, had no foundation, and were built on sipping frappes in coffee pubs and discussing other people and spreading rumors. Suddenly, school didn't seem like the home it had once seemed like.
It was more of an obligation to go to school. I sat in the front bench and was glued to my seat almost always. I often skipped lunch, and when I was exceptionally hungry, I ate lunch hunching over the Accounts book. I loathed studying, but I had nothing else to do. I refused to let myself get drowned in the sea that everyone else was swimming in. I was happy being the loner I never was, keeping to myself and offering a smile and comforting words to anyone who needed it. I started counting the days for school to end. I had been happier before. The whole year carried a lot of bitter memories, and a ton of loneliness that I had made myself get accustomed to. Friends were only the people I did Accounts with and discussed school subjects with. I never really could bring myself to discuss movies, people of the opposite sex, music, food, and the like. Everything seemed so immaterial, so artificial. There was something more I had in mind, something special. Someone whom I could share my dreams and thoughts with. But that never happened, and at one point, I was too engulfed in solitude and had grown to enjoy the company of myself. And then suddenly, the exams came and went. School ended as soon as it had begun.
I felt a sense of loss as I took off my uniform for the last time, knowing that I would never wear it again. That was when it hit me that I had to attribute my whole being to my school. I entered ninth-grade as someone shy, scared and wanting to please people. But then school taught me that one cannot please everyone, and that one cannot rely on anyone else for support. One should establish their own standard of principles and abide by them, irrespective of what other people say. One needs to stand up for what they believe in and take things in their stride.
And I exited the school, thinking that I would next visit this place as an ex-student, but I'll always carry with me the memories of this school. It is, after all, the place where I grew to become the person I am.

nothingness

2008-05-21T08:52:00.000-07:00

It took me four months of hardwork and a ton of loneliness tinged with desperation, to return to this place. I've been sucked into a vaccuum of nothingness at the moment, where I am left with just an unfamiliar hollow feeling that wrenches my gut, followed by the occassional jolt to reality. Then, i return into that empty shell and continue living a mechanical existence.
People rarely matter to me anymore. But surprisingly, what matters is not what you get, and what doesn't matter, is the only thing you're left with, the only thing you're forced to cling on to, much as you want to let go. And when you do, finally let go, you find yourself sinking into a bottomless abyss.
as i am sucked into nothingness, i let my mind meander into the tiny, forgotten specks of my life that lie buried under those memories that are worth cherishing. then, i try to put together the pieces of the puzzle, and yet, i am left with an incomplete picutre.

Just a thought...

2008-01-21T20:00:00.000-08:00

Everytime I devour a galaxy bar, I keep thinking about the underpriviledged children who don't even get a bite to eat everyday. They're deprived of education and forced to work in tanneries.
In Ambur district, India, tens of thousands of children are presently working in tanneries. The output of that production goes into exports - mostly to Germany. Just like the adults, the children are unprotected against the aggressive chemical agents used in tanning the raw hides, the toxic vapors and the dust. The tanneries, where sometimes more than 150 different chemicals are used, are the worst. At times, working here can be fatal.
They toil hard to make leather shoes, which the rich people don with flamboyance.
India is not the only country that is plagued with poverty. Take Cambodia, for instance. Poverty in Cambodia is characterized by low income and consumption, poor nutritional status, low educational attainment, less access to public services including school and health services, less access to economic opportunities, vulnerability to external shocks, and exclusion from economic, social and political processes. The relatively high prevalence of HIV/Aids in Cambodia is an additional challenge to the current human development situation.
There are a plethora of NGOs and organizations striving towards eradicating poverty. Having adopted various approaches, ranging from equal distribution of income and wealth to providing employment opportunities, the poverty should have reduced by now, at least to a certain degree.
But it hasn't happened.
Could there be a flaw in the plan? Are the money, donations, and charity really reaching the poor people? Are they really being helped, and if so, to what extent? Are they being given employment opportunities? Are the children being educated in a condusive environment with good infrastructure? Are the ailing people being provided with proper medical treatment for free?
It's time for someone to ask file a Right to Information Act and ask the government to disclose information pertaining to the amount of funds the government recieves, and what percentage of it is being used effectively towards eradicationof poverty, and what does the government do with the remaining funds. The RTI Act is, I must say, one of the few benefits granted by the Constitution of India to the citizens. It'a an Act to provide for setting out the practical regime of right to information for citizens to secure access to information under the control of public authorities, in order to promote transparency and accountability in the working of every public authority, the constitution of a Central Information Commission and State Information Commissions and for matters connected therewith or incidental thereto.
It's time for the people to wake up, and raise their voices, otherwise the plight of our economy will continue to disintegrade.
We have to open our eyes to what's happening around us and really look.
Unless the condition improves, I don't think I'll ever be able to enjoy a bar of chocolate.

The Blues

2008-01-09T05:23:00.000-08:00

My brain feels jumbled.
Head hurts.
Eyes sting from lack of sleep.
Everything is just a blurry haze.
I'm blinking at my textbooks, eyes wide with confusion, trying to figure out how many more hours of this do I have to go through.
I've not slept in 48 hours.
I'm hungry. All the time.
It's these bloody exams. They're not getting over anytime soon. They're going to pull on forever.
But I have to make it.
I have to.
And when it's over, finally, I'll get drunk, do drugs and get laid.
Or maybe I'll just sleep till eternity.

The catastrophe in my mind

2008-01-07T06:00:00.000-08:00

When I slipped into a contemplative phase as I was poring through a particularly boring chapter in my Business Studies textbook, I just realized that woman are still subjected to injustice, much as the world claims to have taken a step towards gender equity. Gender discrimination still prevails. Women still continue to remain preys of the society, victims of brute and slaves of man.
Even after the society has become 'modernized' in action and ethics, certain orthodox beliefs still continue, pushing women into a soft cocoon, shielding herself from the harshness that engulfs the rest of the world.
Women have been subjected to the most cruel injustices, right from when man became civilised. Starting from Sati, female infanticide, rape, deprivation of education, donning corsets to achieve an unrealistic figure (that constricted the breathing, cut off blood circulation and resulted in the death of many) to the abuse that still continues to persist in rural pockets of India, women have been tormented.

Even today, a man with several girlfriends is referred to as a 'charming playboy', whilst a woman who as much as dates two different men, would be a labelled a 'slut'.

It is acceptable for men to drown their sorrows in alcohol.
If a woman did that, she would be taunted and considered 'unethical and immoral'.

A man is allowed to eat to his hearts' content.
A woman has to always watch her figure. If she as much as succumbs to the occassional craving and happens to gain a pound or two, the society immediately comments on how 'fat' she has become.

Men are allowed to go in for the grunge and looked incorrigible, but will still be considered sexy.
A woman can never have unwaxed legs, lest she be looked upon as a hairy ape.

Men can be as repulsive as they want.
Women have got to appear demure and docile.

Men are judged by their intellect.
A woman is rarely judged by her intellect. She's first viewed as a sex-symbol, a toy in the hands of man. Intellect is secondary.

Men get away with a pitiable facade.
The woman is always the scapegoat.

Men have only their jobs to handle.
Women have to not only juggle their career and work, but also whip up a delicious meal, do all the household chores, manage the house, take care of the brat of the kids, and emerge looking like a million dollars at the end of it all.

In rural areas, women toil hard as labourers and servants, whilst their unemployed husbands squander her hard-earned money on liquor and prostitutes, and then abuse her if she as much as utters a word.

You see, this injustice will always continue, as long as women allow themselves to be victims of the society. Gender equity will never be completely achieved--at least not for another century or two.
But then again, who am I to speak of justice? There is not an element of justice in this world that is torn by strife, and there probably never will be. If there was justice, there wouldn't be a thick line between the rich and the poor, the fit and the handicapped, the fortunate and the destitute. While one half of the population live in marble mansions and eat elaborate four-course meals, the other half is in penury, with hardly a morsel of food to eat.
We just have to accept it. Justice is not something that can ever be accomplished. And I realized it, probably a tad too late.

..............

2008-01-04T01:35:00.000-08:00

the rains continue to pelt around the place, and I continue to stare glumly at the Accounts book in front of me, trying to tally a balance sheet (none of my balance sheets have ever tallied in the 2 years of Accounts I have done), inhaling the redolence of wet mud and thinking why the hell did I have to grow up so fast. Couldn't I just be a kid again and eat chocolate for lunch and watch Powerpuff Girls on TV? I could read Enid Blyton and paint pictures and write fantasy stories about elves and fairies, rather than incredibly boring, realistic 'ficiton' about career, life, romance...blah blah.
Back to reality. The weather is too gloomy to put my brain in a turmoil and crack the intricacies of what appears to be a very simple Accounts sum. Or perhaps I am just too antsy at the moment and would rather prefer to run out into the streets, splash in the diry puddle, get wet, return home with a sheepish grin, and sip hot chocolate whilst I cuddle up in bed with A Secret Seven Mystery. Yes...I am absolutely passionate about The Secret Seven Mysteries. I've outgrown them long since, but they continue to remain my second favorite, after Grimms book of Fairy Tales.
I also enjoy stories by Hans Christian Anderson.
Another jolt...back to reality. I've got another 100 sums to go and an exam tomorrow and I can't believe I've slipped into my contemplative mood again. Will be a dutiful student and return to that un-tallied balance sheet now.

Am i ready to face college?

2008-01-03T06:46:00.000-08:00

It's absolutely mortifying to think that exactly three months from now, my school life will be officially over. True, I spent most of my final year of school buried under my books with an almost non-existent social-life, and I clearly wasn't the most idolized person among all my classmates, but the whole thought of entering a completely different place with not a single familiar or friendly face to look at is truly scary.
Even though I've been through a very rough patch this year, there are a few wonderful and memorable moments of my school life i won't ever forget. Especially all the classes we bunked in XI grade, all the food we guzzled down during exceptionally boring English classes, all the accounts sums we broke our heads over, hurling curses at the cruel Accounts pioneers of our class for their IQ of 500, not attending a single fashion studies class and then abusing the sewing machine and literally ripping it apart, late night conference calls, getting picked on by the teachers and then hating them for it, flunking in all the class tests and not feeling the least bit ashamed of it, misusing the school prefectorial position and bunking assembly, not coming to school in proper uniform and then being pulled up for it, the surprise cell-phone raids that threw us into utter panic and confusion as we tried to hastily stuff our cell-phones someplace where the CBI detectives dont unearth them.
You see, these are all the wonderful moments of school that I doubt I'll ever find in college. True, I am looking forward to a good change of ambience at the moment, but I just hope that I hang in there. It's going to be me, and me alone.
I'll have to learn to harden myself, stand up for myself and for what I believe in. I can't afford to bury myself in a stack of books and blend with the crowd, the way I've just managed to do this year.
Well, I definitely know that I'll live through college. That's all matters, I suppose.