Saturday, February 12, 2011

Another Monologue

Today, it is going to be my College.


It took me 7 Years to complete a five year law course. You, my hopelessly bored reader would be expecting me to follow this up with an short justification. Na. I’d rather not do that. I’d , as usual give a comprehensive commentary making fun of the college, me and those seven years that felt like 17 or 27...

It was different from the way the N school kids did law. We were a community of blissfully happy kids insulated inside a cosy setting without a hint of what went on outside the college. We used to wonder why those kids who occasionally came down for attending our piteous moot court competitions from other colleges looked so stressed out. In the vacations, we sat at home watching movies or playing cricket or something. College for us, was just a level up from school. After college hours, I played “Return to Castle Wolfenstien” in the newly acquired AMD Desktop. During the vacations, I finished Max Payne-I and II.

There were never many classes. Most of the time, the college was kept closed due to some reason or the other.

The whole concept of placement was so alien to the campus that it was considered a disgrace to accept a job in a company or a firm. Not that it ever happened. Sure, there were stories about kids who had left for Bangalore or Delhi looking for jobs in Law Firms. But, even that was narrated with such contempt as if they had gone to become prostitutes/gigolos.

There were a couple of forlorn kids who sensed that something was terribly wrong somewhere and felt out of place. But everyone inevitably had that tired look in their eyes when someone spoke of a job in the Metros.

So what did the kids do after graduation? Well, they all either quit law or practiced law in the lower courts.

It was a very chilled out campus. I often feel that had some N school kid accidently stepped inside, he’d have probably thought that it was a regular government office or an Art School. The student community was the weirdest. Most of the guys were well above thirties. Most of the gals were ‘Married/to be married soon/desperate due to not getting married’ types. And a substantial number of them came Burkha clad. So it was tough to classify them by looking at just their eyes. Some were dropped at the college by their hefty thick moustached husbands with contemptuous expressions as if whatever we were doing was a criminal waste of time.

There was an All India Moot Court Competition every year. A handful of teams with flashy chicks and laptops would come down with the hopes of leaving with an easy win. This was the time of their lives for the couple of wannabe and perverts in the college. They’d sit on the wall, ogle at these kids and murmur amongst themselves. The wannabes would appear wearing Linkin Park Ts and smoked jeans, ready for service. The courts were the funniest. Two teams, two court officers and two or three judges. That’s all. An incamera proceeding. In the final round, for which the organisers would have struggled days and nights to get hold of some HC Judges to preside, the hall will be adequately packed with people whom no one would ever see after the function.

The wannabes would spend the next few months cyber stalking the chicks who had come down (in ORKUT). The perverts would entertain each other with made up stories of how close he was to hooking up with one of those chicks.

And everything would return to normalcy. Quiet gloomy corridors. Deserted classrooms.

All the hell would break loose during the exam days. Strange faces would appear and there would be introductions. “Hey dude this guy is our classmate.” If its asked why no one has seen him all these years, a bizzare explanation would follow. “You know, I am having a shrimp farm in the Tamilnadu border. I was looking after that” “I went to Dubai looking for a job. Was lucky to make back alive”. I have to say that most of these stories would be raw and amusing. Like how he was promised an office job and was dumped in the midst of desert to be a slave to an Arab looking after the camels. How he managed to escape and all. Sadly, most of the stories would be true.

Another chaos would be unleashed during the election time. Those days would be eventful. Fiery campaigning. We had almost every of those student political parties. SFI, KSU, MSF, ABVP, AIDSO to name a few. There would be occasional clashes. And then the college will be shut indefinitely. We’d return homes cheerful and pleased, for the closure meant more movies, games and TV. Every morning with fervent prayers we’d open the newspaper to see if there is anything on the reopening. After a month or so of more unperturbed life at home, which would have become monotonous by that time, the classes would resume. Unknown to us, those leisure days were added to and not subtracted from our academic years.

Some kids would go out for moots occasionally. And would come back with an attitude. It would take a while for them to become ‘normal’ again. Then for days, they’d be seen outside the Principal’s room, accounts section, dean’s room trying to get a refund for the expenses incurred in vain.

I can say that till the day I left the college, (even) a laptop attracted lot of attention. God knows if it’s the same or the attitude has changed.

I was just one of those kids. There was a strange naivety about those people. They were all sincere folks who are content with their lives, however miserable it is reckoned by others.

That “was” doesn’t mean I’ve evolved into something great. But at least, I don’t stare at girls smoking now. Some improvement.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

.

I really think Danny Boyle is a Faecal Fetishist. Lucky for him, there was enough of them amongst the members of AAMPAS too. He’s a lousy moviemaker as well. Or I was too busy throwing up to judge his movie.

Why not rate his movies ‘FF’ so that he and his like minded buddies can appreciate them alone.

Won’t repeat the mistake. I’d rather stare into an unflushed toilet than watch his movies.

Monday, February 7, 2011

B & W


A general search in the net on being inspired from Steve Biko’s exchange with a judge in “Cry Freedom” regarding (in)accuracy of the categorization “Blacks” and “Whites”, gave me some interesting results. Discussion groups were the most innovative. One guy even recounted his colour transition from season to season based on Pantone Colour Chart. The most interesting was this paper by one Dr. Roman Meinhold titled “Black and White: Symbolical Implications of an Aesthetical Polarization”. After a lengthy discussion on the topic, he concludes by rejecting the entire system which “inaccurately signifies a human being by colour”. Quite interesting.
Till date, I have never had a proper encounter with a discrimination based on colour. It’s quite unusual considering the general prejudice amongst North Indians against South Indians. Probably it’s because I’m more wheatish than dark brown.
In these few years in Delhi I’ve heard quite a lot of Stereotypes. South Indians are Black (Inaccurate term used here too). South Indians are cunning and intelligent. All South Indians wear lungi at home. It goes on. Most of the Bollywood movies in one way or the other assists in the proliferation of this image. One often finds the lungi clad Madrasi (The general term for anyone from any of the four South Indian states), having Nariel Chutney and speaking Hindi in that common weird accent that’s more of a Bollywood innovation than a genuine regional accent. At times, even creative geniuses like Amir Khan can’t help himself from doing it. The smartass “Chatur Ramalingam” who speaks broken Hindi in “3 Idiots” depicts nothing other than the uncool nerd South Indian.
Coming back to the colour issue, I’ve often watched the dark skinned Tamilian kid in the place where I stay being taunted by the other kids by calling him ‘Kalu’ (Balackie). After a point in time, even the kid seemed to have got used to it.
In a lighter sense, I think, the best possible way to reduce the degree of resentment that colour based discrimination causes would be to add an entry specifying the technically accurate skin colour of the person in all official documents. So most of the so called whites will be beige, pink, orange, Apricot, Atomic tangerine, Blanched Almond and the list keeps growing if you go by Wikipedia colour list. Blacks would be Bistre, Auburn, Dark Lava and so on. Asians would occupy another chart. So that when they call you a black, you can tell him “Listen Asshole, I am Dark Lava. This card says it. If you wanna call names, do it accurately…”
“Hey you, Dark Lava...”
I think I can live with that.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Post for the sake of posting something

After a fairly long interval, I am gazing at the monitor attempting to get a rickety brain running, get over the inhibitions, laziness and what not. I’ve started becoming scared about a gradual brain death since some time. Not a coma. It is something else.

I am succumbing to the comfort of mental inactivity. It is a funny thing. Just found out that for a mere existence, after a point, the brain is a non-essential organ. Could be anatomically incorrect but in reality i’ve been keeping my brain idle since the last few months. The routine activities including research and analysis were being done without any intellectual involvement. In cyber parlance, I’m expanding my RAM to such absurd amounts so that it may even replace the processor and the hard disk. (Disclaimer: Technically inaccurate) So this thought that down the line, in a few years, I would find myself possessing an extraordinarily bulky RAM with nothing behind it, drove me nuts and here I am trying to kick-start the hard disk and the processor.

Tried keying down something yesterday. Either everything has dried out or the forced attempt to express is not bearing fruit. Whatever that appeared on the screen didn’t even come close to the newly raised quality standards. After reading Kraz, vj and others, nothing’s even nearing the perfection with which they are expressing their perspectives.

Hangover from Shining. Felt like typing “All work and no play makes Shreekumar a dull boy” on and on and on.

Funny, this moment, I feel I can even relate to Jack Nicholson’s psycho character...

Watched the langur tied outside for a while. Pretty much idle, it’d scratch its back a couple of times, rake the soil around with twigs, start to attention at some noise and inspect its rope keenly. Wondered how much isolated it would be feeling. They say it drives away stray monkeys from the compound.

It’s always kept tied. Day in and day out. One lonely langur.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Though the movie was disappointing enough, one thing that really struck me in Apocalypto is the fable that the tribe’s elder tells the villagers about the man who was unable to fill his want, despite having been given the capabilities of all of the animals. Something very apt for describing my present plight.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Langur on a leash

18.06.2010

11.05 am

Laxmibai Nagar, New Delhi.



Saturday, April 17, 2010

'Un'-glorious Bastards...

I just don’t understand it. Could be a problem with me or with Tarantino. Since, I am a nobody and Tarantino, a critically acclaimed moviemaker, probably the problem is with me.

Or maybe it is just that I am unable to appreciate goriness. Be it books, movies or life. I just get bored when they get into this gory part intended to shock the viewer or reader or whoever. I feel kindoff resistant to that whole idea.

The trouble, I admit, is entirely mine. The moment they commence violent gory stuff, I detect the purpose. That dull feeling comes in mind that the guy just wants to accentuate his idea and is trying to nudge the end viewer to attention who he fears to have become inattentive or bored.

It happened with inglorious bastards too. I got thoroughly bored.

It was a cliché combination of randomness, goriness and a bit of History. Christopher Waltz was good. Nothing other than that. The first part with SS Men firing on the Jewish family hiding beneath the floor was quite predictable. All the sudden reposition to high angle with wood splinters flying, random clatter of machine gun etc. Felt just like one of his oft repeated action scenes which can be traced from Pulp Fiction to Kill Bill.


Rest followed suit.

Randomness from Pulp Fiction, Goriness from Hostel and Action from Kill Bill. Shake Well with some History. You have Inglorious Bastards.

Tarantino should have never tried his hand on WW-II. We have sufficient interesting movies on it. If at all he was desperate to try, he could have at least approached it in a different manner. Not the way he made kill bill or hostel.
Was it a war movie? Probably. Was it an action movie? Probably. Was it fantasy? Probably. And what do you get in the end? A gory action packed WW-II based fantasy fiction without anything notable in particular.

I really think someone should tell him that repetition after a point makes everything predictable. Even his unpredictability becomes predictable.