When you lose, it hurts.

It's hard to be content in a place like NALSAR. You always want more, often at the expense of others. Sometimes, you feel you deserve better than you are given. Then you ask for what you believe you deserve. Being a law student means that you know the power of a petition to the authorities, you know the power of the collective will. You also know the arbitrariness of a system, you recognise that every act is a power struggle and things often get dirty.

So you can keep clear of all of it and pretend like your life is untouched by the muck around you. You can flash a nice smile and get someone with influence to get you that academic leave you so desperately wanted.
Or you can be as presumptuous as hell and think of changing some part of the system.

Some of the nicest people I know on campus have sworn to stay clear; but I find that it's remarkably unfair to make no effort to change a rotten system but to complain about how deep the rot has set in. Some others, I know, acknowledge that the system is totally rotten but seem to have an inclination towards making it work the way they'd like it to, not standing up against it. Some try to work the system while trying to change it. Some cannot reconcile themselves with the complete arbitrariness of the way this place runs and demand to be heard - they cause all hell to break loose.

The last sort, they're the idiots. The type of people you should exhibit to kids on the first day of college and say, "Hey look! That's what you should aim not to be."

Here's why. Law school is remarkably result oriented. If those who stood up against the system could actually get anything done, then they'd be heroes. But, you see, it's a tiny set of people versus an institution that has the might to squash every word said against it (unless they wish to turn it around and use it against you). And, somehow, the fact that the system doesn't listen, is the fault of that tiny set of frustrated losers. It is not the fault of those who have not the courage or inclination to actually voice what they believe in. It is not the fault of those who've fed a fetid system and moulded it to their liking. It is certainly not the fault of those running the system. It's not even the fault of those who work behind the scenes but refuse to be identified with a certain cause.

"Why were you stupid enough to go antagonise them? I could have got it done for you." Doesn't law school teach one about independent agency? Aren't rules meant to be uniform? Isn't there something inherently contradictory in saying that you're trying to clean up a system while you continue to exploit those aspects of it that you find convenient? Isn't it a problem that if I go to Mr X with a request it is denied but the same request enunciated by you is acceded to? Do you have a right to clean up a system the survival of which you are contributing to? Is morality inherently impractical? Is taking a stance not based on pragmatism sheer foolishness? Why are we so against any moral argument? Granted that it's inherently subjective and, to the average utilitarian, pointless, but can we really discard what we believe is right in the face of overwhelming pressure to be practical. Is the end really that important?

I don't think everyone needs to stick up for the same things. Evidently, each person has her/his own concerns. But it becomes hard to swallow when the end seems like the only thing that's important. If someone's actions are inherently wrong but don't really affect my grades, I shall keep mum. The moment they do, I shall act. Do I have the right to act then? Am I not opportunistic? Shall not the system look me in the face and say, "Oh well, you have a motive and now I have an argument against you, plus the might to sit on you."

I feel like a loser today, like all that I've been wishing for over the course of two semesters was utter rubbish. I assumed that if someone can pick on me through two semesters because I chose to actually listen in his class and question him on what he says based on what he asked me to read, then some day he would be forced to account for all of his actions. I assumed that incompetence to such an extent that it cannot be tolerated would demand action against an individual. I assumed that there would be someone who would listen. Instead, we got blank stares. "He threatened you? Forget about it. No teacher can mean any ill-will against a student. It is just not possible. So what if his previous papers were unfairly judged, apprehensions are always baseless."

Now, I shall revolt/talk/whine/petition/argue into my pillows. At least they don't hit you in the face when you least expect it.

the sun does rise.

I was whining to my father, the other day, about how college life isn't what I expected it to be. How we've been dealt blows that we really don't want to learn how to parry. How my head seems alien to me suddenly. How cynicism abounds. How even the happiest moments have some uncertainty about them. And he said, "Yes, so? That's life, baba. Get used to it. It'll have ups and terrible downs. You're feeling horrible now, you'll feel elated some days later."

I scoffed at his philosophical, don't-fight-with-the-current,-flow-with-it outlook. It annoyed me, frankly. Then, while talking to Dhanda I said something remarkably pointless and she went off about how if one wants to breast-beat one can go ahead and do it but she doesn't care to listen to all that tosh, might as well do something about the problem in the same amount of time. That angered me too: I'd listened to people chest-beating, why wasn't I entitled to the same right?

They were both right. I am quite happy now and I've realised that doing is better than ranting. Which makes me quite glad that I know the people I know. =) They're brutally honest but so very sensible.

So, what makes me happy currently? A lot of things. For one, while fighting against a system that's so damn rotten, we've found unlikely allies in Principal Secretaries, criminal law teachers, seniors, peons and what-not. Random people who're willing to make a tiny effort to make our fight possible.

Then there is love. The loss of a person makes you willing to consider your relationships much more seriously. I've started talking to people; last semester's apathy has given way, very suddenly, to a desire to care and make it known to the people I care about. It has also thrown into sharp relief the superfluous nature of some relationships. It has made a touch mean the world and a cart-load of words mean nothing.

The last month was hell for many of those I am close to, but through that hell something quite beautiful has emerged. For some of us, this month has helped us loosen up and live without needing to do the 'right' thing, conventionally. For some, it has brought in the importance of being earnest. For us all, it has reinforced the necessity to place people and relationships much above anything else on our priority lists.

A lot has been said of Mahesh Gopan after he left us. I wondered why I hadn't blogged about him, given that this blog was one of the first reasons we had to converse, but something Swaraj said made things clear: perhaps there was just too much to say. Despite our grief at his demise, in death as in life, Mahesh has managed to make people happy; bring people together.

His legacy lives on.

Some things deserve saying.

This little blog post is dedicated to someone who has often left me feeling annoyed, insulted and stupid. Someone who has an uncanny ability to make your day by saying something semi-nice to you in this terribly nonchalant manner. Someone you often just cannot fathom and someone who's sometimes an open book. A person whom I would love to get to know, while she barely survives our coexistence in law school. A person who exhorts one to live by one's ideals regardless of how impractical that may be. A person whose first ever communication with me went like: "Please stop making that noise or I'll kill you." Someone who is human enough to get defensive if 'prodded' and to retaliate brutally yet capable of ignoring the altercation in all future conversations. Someone who types as though each key is to be pressed after a treasure hunt of sorts yet someone who replies to practically every mail you send to her, regardless of the triviality of the mail. Someone with whom incessant badgering, late night or early morning text messages (or all text messages, for that matter), tongue in cheek responses are all supposed to be forbidden liberties, but someone who calls up early in the morning to seek 'revenge' for the late night message and doesn't ever let on that this practice certainly isn't the norm. Someone who teaches but doesn't take over your mind. Someone who scolds and then appends a 'dear' to soothe the ache. Someone who complains non stop about being forced to listen to tonnes of rants yet always lends an ear. A person whose knowledge actually enthuses you to read some more of that obtuse, unintelligible mumbo-jumbo. Someone, when unhappy, makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable and sad. Someone who has come to mean a lot to me despite the minimal time I've spent here. Someone whom I can't tolerate being insulted by incompetent fools wearing a garb of authority. Someone we call a lot of names, the most acceptable on a public forum being Professor Dhanda.
Much love.

I'm not really good at doing this emotion thing, ok. So please excuse my style or the lack of it.  

for two crazy girls and two awesome men.

Hello there.

I promised that I wouldn't let the blog die out, this semester. I'm trying, see? Also, a certain classmate of mine who incessantly badgers me about the lack of a new blog post has hastened the process. Congratulations, boy, you moved a mountain!

When I came in for this semester, one of the biggest things on my agenda was Selection Moot. I wanted to do well in it, get a chance to travel around the country and participate in stuff, prove myself - law school style, etc. The drive remained (though no work was done) until I saw a forward from a classmate talking about a Citizen Journalism Workshop. I noted the dates, realised that it clashed with moot orals, shoved the workshop out of my mind (or so I thought) and moved on. I had a project to complete, after all. And Selection Moot was a given; why would anything disrupt that set schedule? 

Interrupt, it did. I found myself behaving irritably. I shuffled off to one corner of the library with a pile of books on contract law (while the one book that I wanted to read, a feminist critique of contract law, remained on the shelves) and pretended to work. Then I googled Journalism Mentor. Followed it up with a quick look through the Citizens Report site. Then looked up Shishir Joshi and Aloke Thakore. And went on pretending to work on my contract law project. And pretending that mooting mattered more to me than a dream that has been bashed so often that, now days, it is sometimes unrecognisable. 

One slight hitch. Mooting does not matter as much to me as the idea of learning how to become a journalist; learning how to seek the truth intelligently and tell people about it would always get higher priority. So I spoke to the one senior who, I felt, would give me a blunt response about whether dropping the moot for this workshop was a bad idea or not. It's simple, she said. For you,

Moot v. Journalism = Journalism.

Joblessness v. Moot = Moot.

Decision made. 

And then I spoke to some more people. One informed me that I'll regret my decision (he recently ate his words in an attempt to ensure that I don't give him 'too much information' about the workshop - sheesh, what a reputation I have). People evinced delight at the fact that I was finally picking up the courage to do what I like best not what I ought to be liking best while some others were simply glad that I wasn't competing 'cause it was one person less in the rat race. 

Much drama unfolded in terms of who'd go for it along with me and whether anyone else would come along at all. Surprise tests were forgotten about in attempts to convince parents. A final plan was decided. We figured out accommodation that met our parents' requirements (safe, safe, safe, safe) and ours (centrally located, cheap, chilled out); we got a demand draft made (my first ever demand draft); we booked tickets in non AC buses (so we saved cash and, therefore, wouldn't feel guilty while shopping) and then we waited for the 17th. 

17th came with a bang. It was the morning after Selection Moot memorial submission. Participants (and it took me quite some time to come to terms with the fact that I wasn't one) finally sent in their soft copies and then Pali, Sanya and I sat down to watch bits of "Despicable Me". Needless to say, we slept at an alien hour. Sanya and I woke up at 1020 hours. For those who're not acquainted with college hours, classes begin at 0900 hours. What a start. I got academic leave for the day (a piece of luck, that) and then, finally, we left! 

I'd describe the bus journey in detail but for a desire on my part to get to the juicier parts of this tale. So I'll dispense a little bit of knowledge. If you ever stop at a dhaba during your journey, don't feel surprised at the price of cold-drinks being INR 5 above the M.R.P. because that's the fridge charge that they're adding. No no, it's not a monopoly (you eat where the bus stops) and they certainly aren't fleecing you; it's just the cost of refrigeration of the drink in question.

We reached Pune late, we reached where we were to stay (Sadashivpeth) late and we really thought that we reached Patrakar Bhavan late too. Turned out, we were 50 minutes early, much to our, Mr. Shishir Joshi's and Richa's surprise. What does that mean for three hungry, sleepy girls? Coffee and breakfast. "Not 5-star stuff but you can eat it." We'd heard much about the famous poha from the Maharashtrians in our batch and here was a chance to try it. It's worth all the anti-mess-wala-poha rants that I've heard so far. 

We went up to the hall (we'll just call it that for the sake of convenience) and saw an adorable looking, rotund man talking in a deep baritone, gesticulating wildly. That was Mr. Aloke Thakore (note the spelling, someone's particular about it). We took our seats and listen to him discourse about the reason behind the concept of citizen journalism. It was just warm up, we were told, later. It really was. Things got better with every passing minute. 

While I could, I suppose, go on for, say, two thousand words more about what the workshop entailed, I wouldn't quite do it justice. For that reason, escapist that I am, I shall not try. Instead, I'd rather tell you why it  went on to make up three of the most beautiful days of my life. 

1. An urge to make life worth living. Whether it was Dr. Mohan Agashe who spoke of doing work to keep him alive and working on that which gives reason to one's life or Shri Bindu Madhav Joshi who's a firm believer in his 'one life one mission' idea or Mr Arun Bhatia who proclaimed that we need to find the courage to fight the larger battles (though he'd call them the only battles that exist to be fought), every single person who spoke there, spoke with some kind of passion.

2. The realisation that there is so much to learn. No, I'm not saying that I'd assumed till the workshop that I knew it all, but to meet people who'd slogged it out in their respective fields to get where they were, people who are infinitely better informed than one and to talk to them pretty much normally is quite a unique experience. 

3. Hell ya, it was fun! =) This high brow mumbo-jumbo is all very good but the bottom line was, the whole thing was tonnes and tonnes of fun. To talk about Madam Army Pants <insert sneaky giggles> and laugh at someones's indignation at a participant's demand to have the title 'Dr.' inserted before her name despite not being a medical doctor ("we don't mention honorifics," he said. He could have added "I can fix a 'Dr.' before my name too yet I abstain" but he didn't and that made what he said more than just a rant.) I thoroughly enjoyed the three days. Enjoyed listening to someone talk about writing a critical review of a book and following it up with an impassioned monologue on doing the right thing. The same person said goodbye thus, "Continue being curious and always stand for what is just." We enjoyed racing down absolutely unknown roads hunting for black markers and then writing out certificates and passing snide comments. We enjoyed watching cat fights unfold... 

I'm glad I decided to run off to Pune to attend a 'random' workshop, because it has given me the conviction that what I'd dreamt of, isn't such a bogus idea after all. The truth does come out. As someone said of the media, "it could be worse." From learning how to bite one's tongue and resist laughter when someone from across the room texts you poking fun at what another person is saying, to realising that everybody is quite similarly sized (with a few minor variations) and the big people are human too, this workshop gave me a chance to look out into the world that I can't wait to inhabit. I learnt, perhaps relearned, that things probably won't work out, but that isn't reason enough to stop wanting to make a change. 

It has also given me a terribly scalded tongue. Pune doesn't drink enough coffee, methinks. So they made it fresh for us, each time we ordered. And I scalded my tongue, each time that happened. 

Did I just trivialize something that very obviously made a pretty large impact on my short-ish life? Yes I did. So?

Hello World.

It's the new year. 1/1/'11 marks the end of the period within which I could meet schoolmates and say "Shit! The beginning of this year we were in school!" And that seems like a very weird situation.

Ah well, I'll get over it.

I'm not so much of a resolution person, but I noticed that I'd made one in my last post. I think I'd like to carry that on. I shall be myself. Drat. Change that: I shall be a slightly less lazy version of myself. I must exercise. Else I shall soon cease to fit into chairs.

The new year began well. Family time plus friends plus long walk plus my first ever journey on a bus step. =) Quite the ideal day. Let us hope the rest of the year proceeds like this.

Oh, I also solemnly swear to not let my blog die and wait for five months before resurrecting it. Continuity. That lack of laziness is the key. Then again, can I truly be myself if I quit being lazy when laziness is an integral part of my being? I suppose not. Let's see. If my pristine self gets rashes at the idea of assiduousness, I shall quickly drop the idea.

Pip pip! =)