confessions.

A month has passed since semester ended. I think it's time to sit down and figure out what I've learnt over the semester and, no, I'm not talking Tort Law.

I spent this semester being pretty darned scared. Scared about what people thought of me. Scared whether what I thought of people was right or not. Scared of being judged for everything I did, or didn't do. Just, simply, scared.

And the weird bit is, I don't know why. After NPS, I thought I was pretty comfortable around people. Was pretty decent at getting to know and befriending people. I thought I was a generally sunny soul. Some cloudy weather is inevitable, as heat causes evaporation, but sunny in general. Certainly not all clouds with no silver lining in sight.

On introspection, I find that I've been rather scared of being myself. Maybe because the initial situation seemed to suggest that being my tongue in cheek self would be suicidal. Perhaps because being myself involves trusting completely, and I wasn't sure whom to trust. Or, sometimes I'm led to believe, it's 'cause I thought I just wasn't good enough. As though all that I really liked about myself is of no consequence in law school, and what is of any importance isn't my cup of tea. I haven't read enough, haven't watched enough movies/shows to make for fun conversation, am not spontaneous or quick enough, am simply not smart enough.
And at some level, I actually believed that.

Law school has left me bewildered on some grounds. Lots of questions and no answers. It has made me afraid to not conform, but desire to be myself. And those are irreconcilable options. Or are they?

I'm afraid, now, to make overtures of friendship. I'm uncertain when in conversation with a senior. Heck! I'm simply uncertain. About every darned thing I do. And that's not how things used to be. There was a time when I'd decide to do something and go ahead with a single minded focus to do it. Then again, those things I decided to do would probably not serve me in the future. How is some video made against the will of every authority in school expected to compare to decisions that are supposed to shape my life? Do they shape my life?

Just the other day, someone told me that I was living my life in bokeh because I was studying law and aiming to be a journalist. Perhaps it was in jest, but it hit hard. Is my focus all wrong? I've always wanted one thing out of my life and have withstood all that was fired at it. Why is a random statement, today, unsettling me?

I don't think I can handle another 9 semesters' worth of trying to be something I'm not, or hiding the person that I am. If building walls to protect oneself is this painful, I'd rather trust blindly and be hurt. If my 'hello' is such an abhorrent thing, I shall not say it again. But I'm going to be me; I don't know whom else to be.

Back to Bangalore.

That sounds like I was out for the last 5 months on some kind of world tour. 

I did better.

I survived four months of law school instead. As for why it's better: world tours are fun (if they  are not, don't burst my happy bubble), law school isn't necessarily so.

When I last blogged I'd just finished CLAT. I was scared stiff about my results. I stood firmly convinced that I had blown my only chance to gain admission to the colleges of my dreams. I ranted. 

Then, on the 29th of May, when the results came out, I found out that I had managed something that I was aiming for but the pet grouch against that terrible terrible paper remained. So I wrote a facebook note that very night that ranted some more. Then I wrote a legallyindia blog about it and a huge debate ensued. The next month was spent in a flurry; being ticked off about the CLAT paper was my pet hobby. There was a little birdie that brought to my notice, every now and then, the fact that I was going to live in Hyderabad; I was going to shift out of the accepted comfort of my house into an unknown room somewhere in the middle of nowhere (that's where the NALSAR group on facebook places it). 

And then the farewell parties began. And the birdie reminded me, more often than ever, that it was getting closer to departure date. The lists began coming up (on one of which my friends sweetly mentioned the requirement of a brain to be carried as luggage) and the fantasising about college began. As did conversations with seniors and to be classmates. Facebook. Ah the horrors of excessive facebook-ing. Ask me: I know only too well. 

Right. So we all know how bad I am with dates. I forget when I first walked into the NALSAR campus (no wait, we drove in but walk sounds so much better) but my first impression was: "Hey! This looks pretty, well, pretty!" 

Then we went to the exam hall (Oh joy! What a nice place to enter first.) to get done with the technicalities and then down to the ante-chamber to the VC's room (or that's what I thought it was) where I was struck by the fact that even this loo didn't have a health kit. Shock number one. 

Shock number two: meeting the VC. Details of this conversation (Or, should I say monologue?) are the same for all my batchmates.

Rhodes, Jessups, Moot, Rhodes, Number 1, Rhodes, Isports facilities, Today's generation = lazy fat buggers, Rhodes, Why Law? (He didn't really wait for an answer.), Number 1, Placements, Money, Discipline, No Peer Pressure, Rhodes, Don't listen to the Big Bad Seniors who'll tell you smoking is cool, Yah-Di-Dah.

In between somewhere, I met my roomie. Manasi Gandhi. Hell! I room with M. Gandhi! How cool is that? We started off talking a dozen to a dime and I could hear my dad telling my mother that we'd never be able to get any work accomplished if we were to be left together in a room. That probably explains why we never do study in the same room unless it's imperative that we talk.

Cool. So now I'm a NALSAR-ite. Manasi and I shifted into the hostel on the same day. Room 205, GH4. I knew no one on campus except her. Apparently a large part of the population living on campus knew of me. Not in a manner that is flattering. =/ Yes, well. The less said of the evils of excessive facebook-ing, the better. 

The next four months passed in a whirlwind of the most varied experiences. Law school was nothing that I had dreamed of and everything that I’d dreamed of, all rolled in one. It would be futile to even try to pen down all that I’ve experienced at Nalsar for it simply isn’t something you describe. It’s what one internalizes, attempts to learn from and, sometimes, tries to forget.

Classes are what you make of them. Romance, comedy, serious education or just sleep – it’s all possible in those hours, with (so far) just one exception. English, in law school, had close to nothing to do with English. It was language and the law with an overwhelming stress on law on language. It was made ambudantly (Yes, it’s a word. No kidding.) clear to us that we needed to learn things off by heart to pass our English course. My brain took some time to deal with that. History was what history classes normally are like, except a sudden interest shown by my classmates in terra-cotta horses and their riders. Political science was a whole new experience and tort law was a generally bad experience. Legal methods, on the other hand, was more of what I’d dreamt of when I told my parents that I want to study law and really understand how society works and how people think the way they think and just about where the law comes in…

If this were school, then classes would’ve been a major part of this blog post. The addition of ‘law’ before the ‘school’ changes all of that. These four months were more to do with what happened outside of class: on the lawns that adorn the campus, in the mess, in the library (apart from the usual swotting), in hostels, on the batch google group (don’t raise your eyebrows, it is the medium for much drama) and, well, elsewhere.

What happens when you have 400-odd people (I’m talking of only the LL. B. students) stuck together in an isolated campus? You have the most detailed knowledge about everyone around. So you sneeze and people begin asking you if you’re ill. Is this a good thing? Well, in the sense that you know most people around, it is. From the point of view that one has close to zero privacy, it isn’t. But then, with people who see you at your worst and at your best, is there any question of privacy in the first place?

Of course, there is a sudden routine that you’re thrust into and over a period it becomes natural. For me, wake up at 0840 and realize (with a yelp) that it’s so late! Get dressed and scoot to class. On the way grab a little breakfast if possible. Sleep through classes, wake up for the break and walk out and take a breath of fresh air, get coffee or food from ‘Needz’ during the long break and then continue sleeping through classes. Run for lunch, except on Mondays when you drag your feet to the dining hall because lunch is that bad. Go back to the hostel, dump your bag, sleep or gossip. 1630 hours – tea/coffee.

Till the above paragraph, I knew what I wanted to write about. Then I gave it a month long break. So now I no longer know. Law school’s like that, a day and everything changes. Or, from another angle, nothing ever changes. I have 9 semesters more to go. By then, I’ll cover as much of law school as I can. Promise. Before that, I shall have to master the art of using vtunnel and not losing my mind because it’s so frustratingly slow. Ah, yes. I forgot. Blogspot is blocked in college. As are most other websites that one would want to visit for entertainment. They’re very serious about keeping us studying, these folk. Poor deluded souls.

<Note: It has been brought to my notice that blogspot is no longer blocked in college. If so, I couldn't be happier.>

Also, ambudantly isn't a word. Obviously. =P

It's over!!!

*trills a little song*

For months I'd wondered as to what my expression would be like when I walked out of that exam hall. Jubilant? Joyful? Triumphant? Befuddled? There was one thing I was sure of - I wasn't going to walk out of that place feeling like I knew nothing.
I studied. For the first time in my life, I honest-to-the-Gods studied. I wanted to, at that! The way our society works, the government works... They intrigued me. Just like, at some point in time, the fact that we walk because something tries to stop us from walking intrigued me. And I naively assumed that if I work, the rewards are going to come through. Luck, methought, was only a minor player. Haven't they all said stuff about how hard work gets you anywhere? Clearly, my definition of hard work differs drastically from what is the norm.

If they'd set an LST type of paper, which is impossible to finish and difficult to score in, I'd have been fine with it. What irks me most is that the paper tested NOTHING that even remotely translates to intelligence. English was fine. Math was ridiculous. Seriously, we've managed to get to the 12th grade! Don't insult us with questions like "What is the square root of 400?". GK was all about History. Legal "aptitude" was Legal GK. Logical Reasoning was legal studies oriented, with a little biology thrown in. It was all about memory. Every single aspect of the CLAT exam that I had assumed I'd be able to work out on the spot was, unfortunately, not part of the paper.

Gosh, I'm obsessed with this whole CLAT jazz. Can't write, talk or think about anything else... =( which is not the nicest thing during a holiday, seeing that I messed it up on a grand scale...

On a happier note, I got into Mount Carmel =D So I have some backup!

And it's tonnes of fun being jobless!

And tomorrow I shall meet PEOPLE!! It has been AGES since I met school folk! WooHoo!

*lalalalalaa*

PS: Want to know what I was singing at the beginning of this post? "Fix You" =(

~ze jitters~

I had promised myself that I wouldn't moan.
Hah.
I chose to study law despite gazillions of people advising me not to and I'd show them that I can do it, I thought.
Evidently I thought wrong.

Here's how it goes.
Till around 7th grade my parents and teachers comfortably assumed that I'd pursue pure science or some such because I enjoy that. Then in the 8th grade I announced that I want to be a journalist. After some sniffing, they agreed. Then NDTV broadcast a special feature program about careers in which Barkha Dutt stated that it's better to do a professional course before a masters course in journalism. Then they assumed I'd do engineering and then become a journalist. Some time in 11th grade I figured that engineering before journalism was rubbish and that law is oh~so~cool and that NLSIU is awesome^infinity. So I did a crash course in law during the summer hols. And did nothing to augment the learning process over the next one year. That constitutes mistake number 1. Come 26th March and I blow the dust off my books and stare at the stuff that I'd spent the whole of a month studying. I wonder HOW all of that got wiped off my brain... Then I thought that I'd be able to make it up and do well nonetheless. That's mistake number 2.
Classes were fun, but that's probably because I tend to do all those things in class that a conscientious student wouldn't dream of doing... Mistake number 3?
Mocks were good, supposedly. So say my classmates. BUT, if authority is to be believed, I'm regularly falling short of the requisite marks to get into the college of my dreams. Falling short by 20 odd marks. And that, in simple CLAT terms, is suicide.
It's not only about getting into NLS. I want to do well because I chose to do this. I want to do well to prove to those people who've either undermined the effort it requires to get in or the very stream that I have chosen for myself. I want to, for once, achieve what I set out to. And I want to do a huge bunch of people proud, one of them being my old English teacher who taught me how to recite and speak slowly, how to write a speech coherently, how to believe that no profession is inferior if it's done well - a person who, I know, wishes with all her heart that I study law and then go on to make it big as a journalist because she, as a young girl, was told that law and the like are not for women and that she should just stick to the sensible profession of teaching.

Since there are four days to CLAT, one would think I ought to be studying. Is there any point in doing so? Four days. What difference can it make? A lot, apparently.

I will moan; I'll grunt; I'll tear out tufts of my hair; I'll talk about how I've lost hope but you know what? If I don't end up in the top three, I'm going to be dreadfully disappointed.

So lets see how these 4 days go.

You will next hear from me on the 11th-either happy or in pieces.

Toodles!

*pssst*
cross your fingers and pray for me!
(and Shah, I'm still Agnostic ;-) )

My first day of 11th grade I spent sitting next to Shah, fiddling with my tie, talking to Varshine and wondering what on the planet I was doing there. On the second day I sat next to Shine, fiddled with my tie, listened to poorna and nupur chatter and still wondered what I was doing there… In fact, for a long time, I wondered why I was in this school, where my English teacher clearly detested me, where almost everyone was cleverer than me, where when you say “good morning ma’am” most people don’t deign to reply, where if you want to go for some event you’re told “we don’t know how good you are”… then one day, Bharathi ma’am said “Anindita, I can’t believe you’re a new student! You’ve settled in so well… I feel as though I’ve known you for a number of years.” It felt good. Then I wondered why it felt good… here I was, itching to get out of this school where I clearly felt out of place, yet it felt warm and comfortable to be told that I don’t seem to be a new student at all…

I figured after a while. I wasn’t out of place, just not used to feeling so welcome. I had classmates who spoke to me as though they’d known me for most part of their lives; I was welcomed to school on my first day not by my Sishu Griha seniors but by Varshine, Reema and Shreya whose first few words were, “Hi! We’ll have fun di!”; I was meeting all kinds of people and they didn’t seem to mind meeting me; I was getting used to calling myself fat and hearing a synchronized “SHUT UP, NO!!!”; I was speaking to people who’d topped Bangalore in exams that I’d written too and we were talking about my earrings not academics; I was calling a certain person gummy bear and hearing him groan in front of me daily; I was being defended by someone I barely knew (Soumya) against Akash’s “I’m better at English than you are” when there was no need whatsoever for such actions on her part; I lunched daily with a group of people who taught me how to hug, how to believe in myself, how to tell anyone that I love them without being afraid that there’d be no reciprocation – how to live, in short; I was running around getting involved in everything extra curricular; I was being belted by PT Ma’am for choosing a junior throw-ball team that “can’t catch the ball” as though I even knew half the kids there, forget having selected them; I was using the most ridiculous language ever and saying “Boo!” and “Bleargh” whenever I felt like it, and people took it to be part of me; I was, after a very VERY long time, being myself or, perhaps, everything I had wanted to be.

I have been putting off blogging because I knew I’d end up writing about NPS, and then I’d cry (yes, I know I do that often) because I’m loathe to leave it. It’s not the institution that I want to cling to, but the people. When I started out writing this, I thought memories, the little things, would be what I’d bring out. Now, I don’t think this is the time to… maybe one day I’ll plunk down and make a batch video, of the two years that I’ve been here, and capture all the tiny things that make us (How nice it feels to say ‘us’!)… And if there is one thing of which I am certain, it’s that the video will have unity written across it in bold.

I’m glad beyond measure that I ended up here, studying with you folk… While I certainly do treasure my schooling in Sishu Griha, you have given me far more than I had bargained for. My mother asked me, the other day, as to whom I’d keep in touch with from NPS. I started spewing names and then figured that of the people I have interacted with, there are very few with whom I’m going to allow myself to get out of touch… You’ve taken me the way I come, and given me all that I could ask for. If I started listing out everything that I am grateful for, I’d either take forever or miss out on a number of things, neither of which I am willing to do…

Thank you, batch of 2010. Thank you very VERY much.

♥