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.
