Solidarity. That's the key.

I've been acerbic, the last few times I've posted here. Acerbic, angry, hurt and a whole gamut of emotions that make those who wish to understand you, truly empathise, while simultaneously alienating a whole host of others who don't really care very much about the human being that you are. This time round, I've got the best shot I've had in ages, to write something that isn't going to be read as an attempt to take anybody down. And, by golly, I shall use it.

Sangeetha wrote a blog about her experience as an academic representative. It can be accessed here: http://thehinduleftist.blogspot.in/2013/10/this-is-not-rant-sob-story-cribbing.html. I do not know if I would have had the courage to write as she has, if placed in a similar situation; there is grace and honesty in her writing that I do not think I would be able to replicate. Even if nobody else bothers to take her point and introspect, I'm incredibly glad she understands; Sangeetha, after all, had nominated me for the same post in my second year.

While I have been vocally critical of some of the stuff the present academic committee has been up to, and do disagree with some of what she has said, in her blog, I want to continue with the bigger point she made about the manner in which representatives are treated in this place. Sangeetha's experiences have not been laced with the added flavour of university politics, being the alleged "mouth-piece" of certain members of faculty (because nobody here has independent judgement) and having "hotlines to bigshots", but they are startlingly similar to mine, in their minutiae. And I'd hazard the guess that they are similar to the experiences of anybody in a position of power, seeking to work earnestly, in NALSAR (if not elsewhere). And I wonder why. Across the board - student representatives, administration - we treat anybody in a position of power as a bounden slave. For the longest time, I thought that this was the "electorate's right" but that's true only if your responsibility in a democratic set-up is merely to get somebody in power and then sit down and twiddle your thumbs. If that is the case, then you're expected to take whatever the person in power does, and not complain (or be nasty). And if that is not the case (and I certainly believe that it is not), then engagement requires both sides to take responsibility. You cannot expect results when you need to engage, and fail to. You also cannot expect personal preferences to trump everybody else's, because there are way too many people and way too many preferences, for everyone to get their way. Democracy entails compromise and understanding; I think that's where we falter. We're so ensconced in our sense of entitlement that it doesn't often hit us that we're not the ones the world revolves around; the universe is not going to conspire to grant you your every little wish.

There is also a difference in Sangeetha's experiences and mine, and part of it was to do with where the nastiness was coming from. It is rare that a good friend of mine would publicly deride me and treat me like an instrument towards achieving her ends. I think the same goes with Sangeetha too. The most startling example being the fact that one person who sent innumerable mails to my batch group detailing my 'duties' (and the fact that he didn't even vote for me, and was being forced to tolerate me) stood up in vociferous defence of Sangeetha, when she was facing the heat about her own 'duties'. Being friends with a person in power makes you see them as human beings, and that makes you treat them with consideration. Now you cannot be friends with everybody who occupies some position that you need to interact with, but I really think we need to start extending to everybody who is working in positions of authority, the basic consideration of being human. And that entails recognising human frailties; it means tolerating the sudden burst of anger, the occasional snap and sometimes, the one task left unaccomplished. Once, when I was still a representative, I was arguing about similar things with Sangeetha, and she said, "What if the person in question portrays themselves to be 'more than human'?" Yes, some people find it hard to acknowledge frailty in themselves; I know I find it hard to ask for help or explain that I'm down and out and need somebody to just be nice to me. That too is frailty; the fact that a woman is strong and seems unassailable does not give you the right to rail against her with all your might, until she crumbles. Recognising people in power as being just as human as any other person, with their own stories, their own private issues, is basic; it simply must be extended to everybody, regardless of whether they actively seek it or not. If we want to be treated as human beings and be empathised with, by administrators and representatives, then we must extend to them the same courtesy.

I've pissed off too many people in law school for my words to be the cause of any sort of 'neutral' introspection; whatever I say is perceived as coming from some inherently biased position that needs to be countered immediately, not thought about. But take Sangeetha seriously; recognise the fact that we are two people who have been at loggerheads with each other (publicly) agreeing about something; please do think about it.

new stories.

I've a pile of movies sitting around on my hard disk, waiting to be watched. A whole host of story books that I really ought to read, but haven't got around to reading. Bushels of poetry that I have marked out for myself, but haven't read. My usual reason for all of this is the fact that I'm "busy".

But the truth is, that's a lie.

I spend hours re-watching bits of movies that I like, reading parts of books that I already know off by heart, reciting poems that I've known since I was a child. I've spent hours re-visiting all those life affirming moments, while effacing the rest of the story-line. And I've ached, as I watched it. Ached as I watched the last scene from Intouchables, the jubilation of the team from Wiley College, the student clambering onto a table and saying "Oh Captain! My Captain!", the tie of friendship between Miss Daisy and Hoke.

I'm scared of art, suddenly. I'm afraid of the sort of impact it has on me. I am afraid of uncertainties -- I often read the plot of movies/books and watch/read on that basis. Art used to be a revelatory experience. It had the power to reaffirm my faith in relationships and life. Now it seems taunting. And I don't quite know why. I don't know when and why I turned, from a girl who wolved down books at alarming rates, into a person who would much rather live inside her head. A person who is afraid of stories, be it in her own life or otherwise. A person who treats mere friendliness with unqualified suspicion, even hostility. A person who is more accustomed to having people afraid of her than not; indeed, to the extent that she doesn't know how to react to being approached normally. A person who has begun, sometimes, to think of herself in terms of instrumental value, as opposed to merely having a place in the universe. A person who's perpetually on the defensive and sometimes on the offensive, but rarely just being. A person who presumes that the worst opinion delivered is most likely to be the common view of a matter. A person whose instinctive reaction is now to walk away, because anything else is just too exhausting. A person who is reading these very words and thinking that even war veterans seem more optimistic about things, but is writing this nonetheless.

Each time I hear a story, I find more things to be envious of. The ache in me grows. It's almost like I have come to believe that these stories are not for me. That meaningful relationships are beyond me or, perhaps, that there is something inherently repulsive in me that I somehow can't get rid of. And so aches are all that one is left with.

But I watched Sherlock over a few days. And I went back to watch the scene where Sherlock knocks Neilson out and moves swiftly to kneel before Mrs Hudson and reassure her, and the one in which he tries to break the 'ice' with Watson, after having behaved horribly on feeling doubt. I went back and watched those scenes because there is always hope that human relationships can be forged and maintained. There is hope that you can be redeemed, both to yourself and others. And that is why new stories are so important -- they force you to hope when it's easier to just give in to the snarling, stony side of yourself. So I watched that suicide scene and I howled my eyes out and realised, that if art can cause me to feel so deeply about a character that I have only seen through the viewpoint of some director, perhaps I wouldn't want to miss out on the power of real human relationships, despite the pain, the judgement and the disillusionment that often comes gratis.

Of condescension and monopolies.

For the longest time now, I've been trying to be tolerant and remain unshaken by slander. I have tried to work within a system that gave me cause for nothing but disillusionment, for people who perceived a willing worker as a bounden slave, and I have given it everything I had. I have done my best to keep my temper at check, and on the occasions that I failed in that effort, I have felt the need to apologise. I have tried to convince myself that the sense of entitlement with which people approach me is valid. Yesterday, all of this trying ended. I stood for office in the belief that critiquing a system without engaging with it is unfair. I stood, thinking that there is much work that needs to be done, and perhaps I could help do it. I stood, knowing that I had a dream of a law school that stimulated my mind and gave me the freedom to be who I want to be and I didn't think this was an illegitimate end to pursue, for a university. In two years of office, I've realised why nobody with half a brain or any sense of self-preservation would want to put themselves through this grind, if the grind is to be undertaken in earnest.

Yesterday was the fourth election that I contested in NALSAR, and the third that I won (marginally). I wasn't certain whether I ought to have stood or not, but with a system changing by leaps and bounds, I felt that perhaps my previous knowledge of its functioning and my investment in its success would be useful tools to have on board. Yesterday was also the culmination of my tolerance towards comments made without the slightest inclination towards thought, sensitivity or decency. So, I want to address certain longstanding charges against my work in office, and against me. These were well summarised by our present Vice President, in explaining to me why an Executive position for me was undesirable. As I write this, there are those who insist that I resigned from office because I wanted to be on the Exec, and this having not materialised, I chose to walk out. Well, in my experience in NALSAR, it's always easier to believe the worst possible of a person, but I would want to clarify that I resigned because of unsubstantiated, pointed insults to my dignity and the effort I put into these years in office; insults that I felt that I no longer needed to waste my breath tolerating.

Reason Number One: Condescending and Unapproachable
Being a representative has been hard for me. I'm an exceedingly private and hot-tempered person by nature. If there is anything I owe this office, it is the training I've had in biting my tongue and listening to people, regardless of what I feel about them or the point they are making. I am sure I have, now and then, snapped and the person talking to me felt that it was unwarranted, and for the most part I have tried to apologise when those incidents occurred. But what I find interesting is how I am unapproachable, only when I don't need to be approached. When there is something that folk require of me--their grades (in order to pass) or their attendance or medical certificates or bare Acts for examinations or exemptions from exams or reworking of examination schedules or rules they take issue with--they approach me; even when they want to insult the living daylights out of me, they approach me. Otherwise, I am unapproachable. Yes, I have not functioned in the league of my predecessors in terms of speaking to teachers to get marks increased or attendance added, but I have worked in the field of policy to ensure that every person in that situation gets the benefit in question; and this hasn't been for friends (they usually don't fall foul of NALSAR rules anyway) but for a wide assortment of people who are neither close to me nor have any specific reason to find me more approachable than others do. Yet, as a matter of image, I am perennially unapproachable, which begs the question, then why have people been getting so much of their work done through me?

Reason Number Two: Undemocratic and Oppressive
Here's a rough list of things I have worked towards in the past year in office, because the administration was finally one that was willing to be democratic:

1. Frequent open houses to discuss policy decisions 
2. Attendance being scanned in and sent to students every month
3. All policies being mailed to the student body for comments, before being implemented
4. Decisions like surprise tests being removed, etc. being made after polls by students
5. All existing rules being scanned in and sent to the entire student body for comments, in order to have them re-worked

These were, of course, undemocratic. It is immaterial that barely anybody showed up for open houses and that nobody really bothered to actually send in constructive suggestions on the rules, but I made undemocratic decisions.
I made decisions on the basis of what I wanted. I made the university's timetable, and now I'm told that it was on the basis of the courses I liked (and an effort to ensure they don't clash). The preference forms sent before making the timetable were for fun--you know, my vacation's worth of Excel-playtime while dealing with a painful breakup and being incredibly lonesome in a big city? Nine people chose both Banking and Finance and IoS, seven chose IoS and Cap Marks, while there were clashes ranging up to thirty-six (17 courses more than 10, all of which clashes were avoided) with these subjects and other ones. "Why couldn't Banking and Finance not be made to clash with IoS when over thirty students wanted both?" Here's my answer: "Because when you were asked to give in your preferences, you didn't bother to think it through, but you will not introspect enough to find fault with yourselves, so it's convenient to make me out to be some kind of self-serving bitch who made the timetable only to serve her own ends." Because spending an entire vacation researching timetabling software and learning PHP is totally work one would do while being self-serving.
So I asked the Vice-President which of my decisions he found oppressive and imposed. He said: "So many of them." So I asked, "Which?" And he said, "Erm, the timetable? Last year's timetable." I asked him if he noticed that the schedule that people suggested as an alternative in Semester 5 was the schedule that was followed in Semester 6 (oh no, but that would mean that student opinion had actually been taken seriously, an admission that would really harm the argument at hand), and he blinked and moved on to the other problems with me.

Reason Number Three: Monopoly over Power
This, supposedly, doesn't even require an explanation. I have a monopoly over power in this place and that's just a statement of fact now. I would, however, like to unpack this a tiny bit.
So I was Academic Representative in my second year and the Convenor of the same committee in my third year. I have a tiny group of friends. I have neither tried nor want to try bullying people into voting for me, so Boys' Hostel politics is not my cup of tea. When men have monopolised the political system and positions in the Executive since the existence of the system itself, that doesn't count. There have been two women in Executive positions in the history of NALSAR, and that isn't monopoly over power. One woman, winning three elections consecutively, working her guts out for humane policy in the university and building relationships with people in the administration (though never ceasing to oppose the things she dislikes, hence often being told off by the same members of the administration for 'abusing space') is monopolising power. The first time I spoke to the Vice-Chancellor was when I was asked to convince him into making an exception for a LLM student who could not afford to pay the fees to be admitted into the university, and the VC yelled at me so loudly that the Registrar's office heard. Clearly, 'hotlines to bigshots' involve a good deal of persistence and a much greater amount of work in terms of putting together cogent arguments that are hard to deny. And if you try it out, you might find that you'll have hotlines to bigshots too; even hotter lines, perhaps, given how horribly unlikeable I am.

Reason Number Four (and this is the best): Will Work Anyway
"You can work anyway, even if you're not in the Exec, so..." I mean, you can think it all you want, but at least don't say this to my face! It's not as though I wasn't aware that my batch wanted its personal slave, but was disinclined to consider the slave worthy of any respect. I was. But literally being informed that the reason why you don't merit any consideration is the fact that you'll work anyway was a punch in the face. It is also why I am not going to work. I don't work on policy because I need student validation, but they outlawed slavery a while back and I'd like to remind you of that. If you recognise the fact that the work one does it worth some consideration, then give it that respect, for Christ's sake! In any case, I'm also told that "there is nothing" to all of the timetabling and project bidding and enrollment forms: it's cake walk for some, I guess. It was hard work for me, to take on this work for the whole of the university, and a shitload of pressure, because nobody here really forgives mistakes, and I don't think I'm unjustified in expecting basic decency in being dealt with, after that. "Haan haan, Gen Sec chod do, VP ke liye vote kar rahe ho na?" is not basic decency (especially if you're crooning about how you're trying so hard to get me into the Exec). It's hypocrisy. And it's hypocrisy I'm done with.

I was told by someone else (with a sense of urgency) that the problem with voting for me "is not your work, it's you!" Which, forgive me, I don't understand. I'm guessing he was talking about my image, but I still don't understand it. My work can be divorced from my image, but the negatives can't? And, more importantly, ragging someone into voting for one does no harm to one's image, having no manifesto or plan of action does no harm for one's image, having done no work in all one's time in the university does no harm, having done no work even while holding office does no harm, but perceived condescension (with the humaneness of the person in other situations being completely ignored), despite work being done and a clear plan of action in hand, is good reason to refuse to support a person. Bravo!

I shall condescend, monopolise and oppress no longer.

Word Vomit.

Have you ever felt like you're living in a haze and you don't really know what you're doing? You're not intoxicated, and technically you ought to be in your senses, but everything seems numb? Have you ever lived days hoping that you weren't really living them, and that your real life would get on track sometime soon? Have you let somebody in, against all your good sense, so much that he's become integral to your thinking and then, suddenly, found out that it might have been best to let your good sense prevail? Ever been forced to sit down and erase a name from your vocabulary, your dreams, knowing all the while that you didn't figure in his, but wishing against all odds that he's the one who's getting it wrong? Ever realised that it was all a lie while knowing that an emotion as strong and simple as that was necessarily real? Ever felt so incredibly small that all of your insecurities come tumbling out of that shelf in the back of your head where you'd hidden them for the longest time? Ever taken on more work than you would care to do, or are capable of doing, but feel lost and aimless nonetheless? And then to feel completely repulsed by yourself, because despite your claims of independence, one single person can make such a complete mess out of you.

Glad to be unhappy

Do you ever miss somebody so much that it becomes a constant ache in the pit of your stomach? But memories make you happy - so you're simultaneously ache-y and grinning like a loony toon? Miss somebody so much, when you're low it brings tears to your eyes that you don't know when you'll next meet the person? Yet, when you're low, just a conversation makes the universe you inhabit seem a whole lot brighter? It leaves you smiling in class to be able to snatch a minute's conversation or a text message or two, between hours. Makes hurtful things seem immaterial, because there's somebody who understands, or is willing to talk things through and make sense of them. Who might disagree but doesn't do so by cutting you up into strands of ribbon. Who understands what drives you, and whose passion (for entirely different things) seems completely sensible to you. Somebody whose embrace you long for, so much that it's almost a physical pang.

I owe the stoned chai-wallah, Kamani Auditorium and the Dilli winter something special.

Muddled.

Well. I remember my blog every now and then, and think that it's too much effort to get down to writing a whole coherent piece, so I quickly close the tab. There is far too much to say, and I am completely incapable of articulating it all. But, sometimes, a dam breaks and you feel the need to type furiously, incoherently, until the confused pulsating red-hot-blob of blehness in your stomach quietens down and you can go back to being boringly humdrum again. I have often wondered why I can't write witty pieces on contemporary issues and be all awesomely intellectual on this blog, but then I guess it has, over the years, turned into a remarkably useful rant-spot, so we shall leave it as such. Maybe, when my brain is somewhat less fraught with conflict and is less befuddled, it will get down to the seriously cool task of opinionating.

I really don't know what's happening. Bal Thackeray died. Whee. Ponty Singh and his brother died. Okay. Nobody really politically important died in Delhi. Damn. I could do with the Price Oxford International Media Law Moot - South-East Asia Rounds being cancelled. Foreverandever. My results are semi-out and they do not make my family particularly happy. They don't make me happy either, but that's primarily because of the extended displeasure that my parents evince on hearing of an unforeseen "B+" and the fact that, following this trajectory, I'm going to have no options open before me when I graduate.

My internship is fun. I'm happier than I have been in the recent past, but that's tinged with a really weird sensation of regret. Regret on so many different levels. That I headed to NALSAR, in the first place; that I chose not to keep my mouth shut and do things as expected of me, and that I'm now facing the music for it; that I might just have bitten off a lot more than I can chew, and have thrown away my chances of studying abroad, as I have wanted to for ever so long. I suppose what is most irksome about it is that while I might do my best to dump the blame for all of this on other folk, the choices were mine. And regret stings most in those situations.

Most of the things I get to do are because I study in NALSAR, but I still seem to hate it from the very core of my being. It stifles me. Even a notional mention of it brings forth waves of revulsion. The other day I had a conversation with somebody about handing over the power of definition to the bad guys and then whining about how horrible the scene is. Well, yeah so I take over the power of definition and NALSAR is "my" university and so what? It remains a shithole where you can get screwed over on multiple levels and people will sit around and watch. It remains a shithole, miles away from any kind of civilisation, chock full of pretentious attempts at CV building (heh, look at me mootin'!) and being "studly". Remains a shithole where as a student you can afford to have a "life" only if you're filthy rich. A shithole that you can give your everything to but just get fucked in return. And the only retaliation possible is a god damned blog post! Except, that it is so despite my definition of what it could be. Gee! That makes me so much happier and hugely empowered!

My mother says that it is futile trying to knock some sense into me because no matter where I go, I get into altercations with all manners of people and then whine about how they're unfair. Which makes me wonder if the problem is with NALSAR or it's just me. Evidently, a lot of people seem to be getting along fine in NALSAR. They're "nice" people, "good" students, over-achievers by any measure, and nobody threatens to expel them. They have friends by the cart-load, teachers salivating over their answer scripts and not a regret in the world (I presume). Maybe being all activist-y is just presumptuous as hell, 'cause who said I'm needed? It's just some sort of ego-massage, presuming that there is a battle to fight and that you're the one to do it. A chap recently told me that all of this "stance-taking" is just very hollow because there is practically nothing that you can do about it, so what's the point? Register your dissent and then do the same things. Say you really dislike the competition and the feel like a miserable failure because you cannot succeed in being the bigger rat. Say you dislike the system and then feel miserable because you stuck your foot in the door and someone stuck an arm out to biff you on the nose. This bravado is all for "big" people. For those who need something from the system, all the protest is farcical, 'cause their future is held hostage by the darned system that they are fighting. And the big people don't need anything in the system to change, so status quo it is.

I haven't the slightest idea what the point of this post is. I don't know if I can even try to conform to the "ideal student" stereotype. I don't know if I am willing to give up on my dreams in order to stand up to a system, presumptuous as that motivation is in the first place. I just want to remain as far away from NALSAR as possible. For as long as possible. I want to act again, to go for fun plays and concerts, have time to read fiction that I like. I want to drop the inhibitions that have constrained me for ever so long. I want to be able to get drunk without the fear of what I would do or say.

Sigh.

Rambling is good. Really.

This is the tenth time since I last posted on my blog that I am starting a new post. The previous nine attempts lie deleted. I start off with much gusto, which fizzles out in a few lines. That seems telling of the way I have been dealing with things in general. In starts and stops; continuity seems alien to my existence. Tenacity was never my strong point but, these days, I don't seem to complete anything. Thoughts. Work. Equations. Blog posts.

It's all broken.

I think it is because I've turned bitter. I called someone jaded on my blog, a while back. I feel jaded now. Uneasy around optimism; quick to be bitter or sarcastic; unwilling to let perceived wrongs go. At some level, it's just a convenient state of mind: I can feel morose, wallow in self-pity, be mean and feel as though it is all justified.

I know better.

I know that I've always been one royal whiner. Those I like talking to have had to bear with the unfortunate burden that my whining is. Sometimes they do so with a smile pasted on their faces, sometimes they tell me to go boil my head. But they usually listen. The problem is that I've got to a stage where I take out my frustration on those whom I am whining to. My lack of agency, my inability to get things done is often transferred to the people I believe are better placed to act. I fail to recognise that their constraints, their inability to act may be causing them just as much frustration. When you have a disagreement with the people you usually agree with, you feel god-awful. Or, at least, I do.

And then there are expectations. From people you have no right to expect anything from. When do you have a right to expect something? Expecting reasons for stances taken, consideration when you're low, an explicit indication of love, a patient ear, to be understood; it's all a giant build-up to a single sensation - disappointment. And then, I've mastered the art of being misunderstood, in any case. Ask someone if the person is a feminist and I've victimised the collective for taking a stance against my personal ideology. Or perhaps it is someone else taking the more convenient path to justify the person's unsubstantiated position. I am getting used to that too: having what I "twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools". There we go again - self-pity.

What bothers me is how much all of this bothers me. How far I'm willing to let things sink into my minimal grey matter and hog up processing power. How easy it is to unsettle me with just a phrase, these days.

I am scared.

I am scared that I do not fit into the society I live in and that there is nobody whom I connect with and who wishes to connect back. I am afraid of being an oddity; I want to be endearing and likable by the common measure. But then, I am also incapable of being anybody else but myself. And I am an oddity. I am short-haired, fat, loud, opinionated, brash, arrogant and easy to dislike or fear. What I am afraid of, is that people cannot get beyond that. I want them to; I yearn for people to understand the insecurity, the fear, the hope and the love within. I am afraid that if I do not cling on to people, they'll be more than glad to set me adrift; that they have no need to hold on; that I have nothing to offer.

I do not understand proportions.

I was told, the other night, to bring some degree of proportion into my life. Living in blacks and whites is a fool's life. For someone who argues for nuance in everything that she talks about, I seem to lack it completely in my life. Or do I understand so little about myself that I cannot even perceive the nuances in my relationships with people? That is an unsettling proposition.

I think I am just wary of being vulnerable. We are taught, early on in our lives, that vulnerability is a bad deal. That being at the mercy of another is a pathetic position to be in. But then, I cannot imagine myself completely independent under any circumstance. The problem with caring or expecting anything is that you leave the response to someone else; and there is nothing you can do if they don't care or they choose not to live up to your expectations. Then again, I'd like to think that the Buddha story applies in equal measure here too: what happens when you give someone love and they refuse to take it? You are filled with that much more love.

I'll fix it.