P for Pessimism

Life is the worst thing that happened to me.

After Constitutional Law.

Ask, and ye shall be told.

And when I’m sitting at my favourite (talking relatively, duh) corner in the library, earphones firmly on- blocking out the Xerox Machine and the lets-socialise-in-the-lib folks, looking out through those large clear windows out at the road leading to the Jnanabharathi campus with the occasional cycles, frequent Honda Activas and many many wannabe diggas gallivanting around in Altos; and I think


What the goddamned fuck am I doing here?

Fodder, fodder! For more blogging!

Loath as I might Japhet, I couldn't help shaking my head in understanding sympathy when the old graying man asked us in pitiful tones:

Isn't there a single soul in this class who has read the article?

LOL!

Eastern Music and Dance Comptetition being held tomorrow.
Cannot wait. I had the (mis)fortune of watching some of them practise in the Acad. And boy, was it funny?!

Coming Attractions!
1. Some unpleasant and highly ineffectual hip-gyrating to Main Hoon Don... (be warned- the performer is so confused and shocked (by his own moves?) that it appears more like Main Hoon Kaun?)
2. The Indian Olympic Wresting Contingent suffers as its most promising member refuses to wrestle, and instead shakes (a whole lot of it, too) to Right here, Right Now...(be warned - you may want to die Right There, Right Then.)
3. An enthusiastic penultimate batch attempt at No Entry...(be warned- refrain from screaming out in pain, Is there No Exit?)

For those of you planning on not attending the much awaited event- worry not! Expect a comprehensive (and critical, like duh) analysis of the goings-on some time soon.

I just hope I don't die laughing or something unnatural like that. Then again, dying a week before the Constitutional Law exam seems like an incredibly attractive prospect.

 

Tribute

Ooooooohhhhh Myyyyyy Gooodddddd
(ear piercing shriek)

I take this opportunity to thank the unprecedented Strong Bong (if you don't believe me, go ask her what her hobbies are) who never, never, fails us when it comes to spicing up the proceedings of a very boring lecture by a very boring Fa(ff)phet.

Think about it, folks.

Who else can plonk herself on the bench and and render this dialogue in her inhumanly shrill voice (what is it with Bongs and teeth-on-the-edge-setting pitch, anyway?):

That dog wanted to kiss my toes, aaaaahhhhhhhh.

Folks here in Law School maybe weird, irritating, mean, and all that yada yada; but you simply have to hand it to them.

Cus they sure are funny.

Home Sweet Home

(This post has nothing whatsoever to do with a certain comment The Boy Who Jumped made in our estemeed LLH's class)

Home is where mom is
Where dad returns from work
Where your sister lurks
Home is where the heart is
Home is where all your books are
All the clothes
Home is where you can sleep
When you choose not
to make the bed
Get shouted at
Home is where breakfast
Lunch and dinner, all
Taste good
Home is where
Maggi is not staple diet
Where bitter black coffee
Was unheard of
Where mom comes running
Thermometer, vicks et al
If you would just cough
Home is where
you’re a baby
and noone expects otherwise.
For a while, at least
Home is where the only book on torts is
By Archer
Home is where laptops are used to play games
And watch movies
Oh yes, Home is where you can watch TV
Where you’re just let be
Home is where your favourite pillow is
Your car is
That poster is,
The one he gave you on your b’day
Your videos are
Your poetry is
Home is where your photographs are
Home is where mom, dad n sister are
But oh,
Just now, home is so away n far.

Really, really bad poetry; but it's one of those things that I wrote oh-so-spontaneously - like I was actually feeling every word I typed. I know for a fact there are many others feeling the same way just now; seeing as how a lot of freaks actually went home for the weekend while the rest of us were left behind.

Not fair, I say.

Cheeeeeers to Home and Everything about it!

Why must I die a million deaths in one life?

I’ve made several discoveries after arriving at Law School. One of them, of course, is that people like Triple I aka Cogito Ergo Sum exist. What’s more, they are still alive. Another discovery is that a professor can be a bitch simply because she is frustrated.

Another discovery, and the latest one, is that heat is tangible. You can feel it in the air. If you can convince yourself to reach out from that overpowering lethargy and touch the heat, it’ll touch you back.

I feel SO hot (in terms of temperature, for the benefit of my recalcitrant roomie), I’m beginning to hate everything and everybody. It’s funny how something as external as heat can have so profound an effect on the way we think and behave. I don’t know if it’s the heat, and whether when the season passes by, the following list will change substantially, but as of now this is how it is.

Things/People/Phenomena I Hate

1. Bangalore – Summers
They all lied to me. They told me the weather here is wonderful. Garden City, Pensioner’s Paradise, all that yada yada. I haven’t felt as hot and lethargic as I do at the present moment ever in my whole life, and I earnestly hope that after the five years of torture that I shall undergo here, I never have to live in this city again (giving it another thought; save the weather, its quite an okay city, really)
2. GWC
Admittedly, there are many who refuse to drink water from that cooler in the Mess Block because it is supposed to have been infested with cockroaches. A couple of decades ago, I think. But, I don’t care. It’s HOT. And, there are many like me whose only relief during these hot weeks has been the chilled water from that cooler. It doesn’t work, anymore. And, they are responsible for it, okay. So they aren’t getting paid for it. But, whatever! It is time they realize that General Welfare quite obviously includes the consistent supply of potable and reasonably cold water in the summer.
3. Mess Committee
I’m beginning to like them, I think. That cold buttermilk they serve for lunch is sufficient to make anyone like them. They should just fire that Bong cook, however. Things will be all hunky dory, then.
4. Resident Evil
I’m sure you know who and why. (If you still haven’t got it, you’re a moron; but I’ll tell you this – she shouldn’t wear pearls.)
5. Sudhir Krishnaswamy
I don’t want to sink like a stone.
6. Mobile Service Providers
I hate them ALL. Airtel, Hutch, Spice, BSNL; each and every one of them. I hope they all go bankrupt. Before I go bankrupt, that is.
7. Madhavan Menon
Him. He started it all. Shoot him.
8. Projects
Need I say more?
9. CorpBank
That useless, inefficient, disorganized Bank is always shut when I need money.
10. Dirty laundry


I know, I know; but don’t blame me, it’s the oppressive, exhausting, wearying HEAT.

Mean, Her, inter alia

I’ve always wondered if mean people are born mean. I mean, I’ve met a few mean people in my life, known some of them for a while- never too intimately on account of their being mean; and I’ve always wondered, were they born this way?

Of course, it would largely depend on what mean means. There have been mean people in school. Then, there have been mean people in Law School. Not really mean, per se. But slightly mean, not consciously maybe; but mean, nevertheless. And, I wonder, were they made this way? Or did something happen to them that made them this way?

Was the entrance examination just a scam? Maybe, it didn’t really test our intelligence, logic whatever yada yada. Maybe it was just one big plan to pick out all the messed up, fucked up and totally screwed up people in the country, and put them here. And, maybe, a few of the meanies got in too. Who is to say that smart folks aren’t mean? In fact, to think about it most objectively, most smart people – the kind who turn up at this place- think its quite okay to be mean. Mean in the snob context, maybe. I’ve been around, you know, in my eighteen years. And, never have I met so many snobs concentrated in the same goddamned place. Then again, Nagarbhavi would have been highly boring if it weren’t for the snob and weird factor. They make life amusing. Maybe, I’m one of them too. Yeah, I suppose I am. At least, my friends outside Law School think I’m slightly weird. And, in my own personal view, and in the view of the few genuine friends I have in this place, I’m quite boringly normal as compared to the others here.

But, I’m not mean. I know that. Save to Triple I aka Cogito Ergo Sum in some rare instances. But, I’ve met people who are mean. Maybe they don’t mean to be. But, that doesn’t take away from the fact that they are mean, does it? In fact, my roomie quite proudly states that she IS mean, and that she has no qualms about it. She is easily one of my most favourite people in Law School, in spite of every thing about her- in spite of this admission too. But, I still can’t make sense of this whole proud-to-be-mean thing. I mean, if I figured I’m mean, even unconsciously, I’d be darned ashamed about it. And, I’d do everything within my power to undo my mean-ness. Then again, we all have different definitions of mean-ness. I don’t think sneering at a cashier who can’t do her job right is mean, and I know there are folks who do. But, I do think pushing someone – who you know for a fact could not retort to your smart alecs – over the edge is mean; and I’ve seen lots of people do that here.

I’ve been mean to people only when they deserve it (again, we come to the question of who deserves it and for what reasons). I’ve also been ashamed of it, but I can be allowed my rare share of meanness, I think. But being mean to people on account of their being from another part of the country, another city, having an accent, not having watched a movie, read a book, or heard a song; colouring their hair (you-simply-gotta-know-who) wearing weird (and not, as it should be, different) clothes –is also one of the kinds of meanness that exists here. There aren’t many people who do it, and it probably prevails everywhere else too; but I’m talking about how us (the regular, medium and rare meanies) -being the liberated intelligent individuals that we are, always so willing to accommodate the gays, lesbians, queers and blatantly public making-out sessions; cannot accommodate a little difference in such inconsequential things such as dressing sense.

And, does being mean give us some sort of pleasure? I don’t know about myself. I never really know when I’m mean, and I never feel good about it afterwards. But, while it is happening itself; do we rather enjoy it? Is there a sadist in each one of us? There is, I suppose. There must be some joy for a person who is driven to talk rather rudely to someone else all the time- knowing fully well that the latter is uncomfortable with it. Like, that condescending little bastard who talks so to everyone in class. (I haven’t been able to think of a suitable moniker for him; so kindly let me know if you can think of something appropriate)

What drove me to write this highly incoherent post? I’m reading a book. About a little boy. His mother thinks he is born mean. He grows up to shoot down half a dozen people. And, sadly, his mother thinks he was born to do it. Like, all along. Couldn’t it be possible that her obviously skewed upbringing – seeing as how she thought he was born evil – brought him to that stage? Or, was he just born mean?

I suppose I’m talking a lot about mean. And, I cannot help but bring Her in. The good God made Meanness and dispatched Her to Law School. Now, She IS mean. And, I wonder why (whenever I take time off from loathing Her, that is). What kind of pleasure does She derive from terrorizing Her students? So, let’s make a case study of Her. Is She naturally mean? Is She frustrated (yup, that way)? Or, as She claims, did Law School make this of Her? Is She getting back to the world for something?

The best kind of mean-ness is the getting-back-meanness, I think. Like, when one of my favourite(st) people in class (you know it’s you if you’re reading this) requested me to write a particularly mean post about one of the irritatingly mean people in class; I conceded. Because, I thought, meanness begets meanness.

But, then again, if it really did – She should be dead. Strung by Her thumbs. Eaten alive by vultures. Chopped to little pieces. Tortured. Am I being mean? Maybe.

But you know what?

She deserves it.