TheDevianTRealM

7 Khoon Maaf - Review

2011-02-21T22:10:00.001+05:30

7 khoon maaf is not a film that will give you an adrenaline rush, it's not a film that'll make your eyes pop out of your sockets, it's not a film that'll make you cringe because of violence either. It's a film that needs to be allowed to sink in. While it requires the viewer to be fairly attentive, it doesn't confuse or screw with one's brains. There are different ways of looking at this film. I, however, found one angle to be extremely interesting. There were various subtle instances in the film that hinted towards it but never firmly established anything because Sussana's character intended to be open to different interpretations.

*Spoiler* - It had been mentioned in the beginning that sussana lost both her parents prematurely, and their death, particularly her father's, had a huge impact on her life. The constant appearance of her photograph with her father shows that his death proved to be a major turning point in her life. We're also told that after his death, Sussana looked for an image of him or similar traits in every man that she met. This is the theory my interpretation is built upon.

Sussana was an eerie character. She was lonely, yet positive. Depressed, yet hopeful. Calm, yet violent. Quiet, yet turbulent, and externally normal, yet internally bordering on psychosis. She lived in her own world. Her father left an image in her mind - the image of the perfect man. Throughout the film, Sussana not just looks for love, she looks for a man who can befit the image of that perfect man in her mind.

Her only desire was to love and to be loved in return by a man just as great as her father was. She built her life and dreams around that desire and ceaselessly jumped from one man to the other in hope of getting that desire fulfilled. But, every time she started to take a step towards it, her husband showed his imperfect side and then she had to restart all over again. Hence, it wasn't just the abuse, addiction, blackmail or violence that compelled her to murder her husbands, it was the fact that their negative traits automatically disqualified them from being the 'perfect man' that Sussana wanted to spend her life with. Since they were no longer a part of her dream, they were useless and had to be done away with. According to her, anyone who proved to be a hindrance or disturbance in the course of her path had to be removed (illustrated by the story that she shot the mad dog who kept barking at her when she went to school)

So my conclusion is that sussana spent most of her life chasing her dream. She had everything - a big house, three loyal servants, a loyal companion-cum-confidant. All she needed was a partner to convert her dream world into reality. Unfortunately, she never found him.

Coming to the climax, that left many people scratching their heads, I think it was quite simple to figure out. The 7th murder was of her servant, Maggie. After killing Tarafdar (Naseeruddin Shah), she knew she had to get away without getting caught. At this point the scene where sussana tries to seduce Arun under the pressure of her ehsaan suddenly comes back to your mind. She knows that she can get away because Arun is standing at the helm all ready to prove that she's dead (in order to return back the favor) so she sets the house on fire and runs away. In short, Arun was her partner-in-crime this time. her servant, Maggie, just happened to be in the wrong place in the wrong time. Sussana never intended to die herself.

Another observation that I made was that she decided to become a nun for a reason. It established her new identity legally. She was no longer sussana, she was just anna. Her being a nun was the lifelong cover she could peacefully live under without the fear of facing any danger because a priest, under no circumstance, can disclose the confessions of any person.

This is how I comprehended it. The beauty of the film is that there can be various different interpretations of it.

Priyanka was simply brilliant. Unlike the common misconception, Sussana is not a menacing, scary character. she's delusional and enigmatic - which is exactly how Priyanka played it. Psychotics look normal and healthy, that's why they're psychotics. I don't think anyone else could have done a better job with sussana's character. She captured the sense of ceaseless foreboding that the character needed to exude at all times. Definitely a thumbs up for her.

On the flip side, I have to agree that the length could have been shortened a bit. The make up wasn't very impressive either. The husbands did a pretty good job minus the russian guy who was very forgettable. He did deliver some of the funniest lines of the film though. If someone did match priyanka's performance, it was Vivaan Shah in a power-packed debut. His unconditional and unwavering admiration for his saahib almost resonated with the classic tales of unrequited love. He played the innocent, doe-eyed boy completely besotted with the woman who gave him a new life. This boy is sure to go places with the kind of talent and screen presence that he has.

The only other complaint that I have with this film is that there was hardly any gore. It would have made the film a lot more juicier if we would have had the pleasure to see Edwin Rodriques being eaten up by the panther.

I'd give it a 3.75/5 - Give it a shot and let it draw you in. You will not be disappointed.

P.s - Did someone else think that the last scene where Sussana devilishly says, 'this time I'm going to drink his blood', followed by the evil laugh was somehow symbolic of the last supper? I cannot pinpoint the exact connection but the moment I saw it I felt it had something to do with it.

Random shots # 2

2011-02-07T18:32:00.003+05:30

More pics clicked! Suneha and I went for lunch to Ruby Tuesday, PVR Saket :D

*Click on photographs to view in larger size.

Random shots

2011-01-28T22:45:00.003+05:30

Sometimes random is genius, and sometimes it is trash. I do not know what the following shots fall under, but I'm sharing them nonetheless in order to acknowledge my new-found love for random photography.

Click on the photographs to view in original size :)

The season of ‘pre-boards’

2011-01-26T23:22:00.003+05:30

The season of pre-boards is here. It’s deadly, bloodthirsty, cannibalistic, ruthless, poisonous, toxic and long. Very long. It has a definite start but no definite end. It’s a line; not a line segment, and a very very dangerous line. You start believing that the pre-boards are gradually approaching long before they actually do. ‘Freak out’ mode is turned on, innumerable coaching centres are consulted, tuition teachers suddenly become gods and books come out of the trash can. A very strict and balanced time table is made and you resolve to follow it religiously until the exams get over. Parents start to breathe down your neck more than they usually do and long, never ending lectures become a commonplace. Teachers suddenly start rushing the syllabus and long, never ending lectures start to pour out from their end too. Mobile phones, internet, television and other gizmos are banned and suddenly your 21st century, wannabe hip-n-cool, facebook infected room turns into sabarmati ashram.

Hence begins the prolonged, extensive and gruesome journey to the boards. We forget that at the end of the day, ‘boards’ is another important part of our lives, but just a part. We, however, start behaving like we’re inching towards the 1857 revolt once again. That it’d be the end of the world and end of life if we get anything less than 95%. What would happen to the grand SRCC dreams? and IIT dreams? and St. stephens dreams? and what would happen if DU doesn’t even fall on the radar? I think I should commit suicide just now.

It is a widely known fact that pre-board papers are purposely constructed at a level much higher than the usual. This is ofcourse, to assuage the school’s own insecurity about the ‘future’ of the students (can I just roll my eyes now?). The truth is, by the time the last innings arrive, ‘future of the students’ is thrown out of the window and ‘image of the school’ becomes top priority. If our school set a record of 96% last year, then how can it go below it’s own standard this year? izzat ka sawaal hai bhai. Market mein naak thodi katne denge.

And so they have to make sure that the students are capable enough to ‘maintain their image’. If they’re not, then they’re forced to learn that art. The name of that art is ‘retest’. A retest happens when a student flunks in the first pre-board exam (A student like me) and keeps happening until the student manages to cross the ‘40’ mark line (think: kabbadi match)

Which means more stress, more tension, more studying, more tuitions, more all nighters yada yada yada. You catch my drift.

To say that the situation saddens me would be an understatement. We, as a nation and as a society, are so absorbed in this system that we do not even try to look beyond it. We do not even try to look at the gaping loopholes in our education system, that someday those loopholes will become so huge that the word ‘education’ is going to sound like a joke (If it already doesn’t). We need action now, right now, at this moment and at this second. The students are rotting and decomposing in this dysfunctional, hypocritical, counterproductive and worthless system. I cannot fathom what I’ve gained from this system. I haven’t grown as a person, I haven’t become more intelligent (infact I’ve become dumber), I haven’t learnt anything about the nasty road called life and I sure as hell haven’t been ‘educated’ in it’s actual sense. If cramming the formulae of national income = education, then I must admit that I can see the ‘future’ of our country quite clearly from here.

Let me point out a few ‘values’ that I’ve learnt in school -

1) Cram, cram, cram should be the motto of ‘learning’. Stuff your brain with as much information as you can, even if it starts overflowing, keep stuffing until the cap of your head bursts open and the contents of your brain fly out like a rocket launched from a rocket launcher.

2) Grades and marks are very important. They judge your intelligent and therefore your ‘worth’ as a student. There is absolutely no way you can afford to get bad marks – that’s a crime, according to the school penal code. You may be prosecuted and sentenced to repeat a year.

3) Respect your teachers. Even if they’re pathetic losers and uninspiring nincompoops. Even if 90% of the ladies in there became teachers to evade their domestic problems.

4) Consider humiliation and unnecessary taunting as constructive criticism. In fact, even when teachers and the management insult your parents, keep mum like the saraswati devi herself has bestowed her voice upon them.

5) Incomplete homework is another crime under the school penal code.

6) Wear a uniform because it’s important to ‘standardize’ the students. Aren’t we products like colgate and maggi?

7) No one can dare to point out a flaw in the school. Everyone should always be hunky-dory about it because it’s a perfect paradise and we’re all little angels residing in it’s cocoon. You can raise a finger at the government of India, but definitely not at the management of your school. Wah, wah, democracy!

8) ‘Indian values’ = singing vande mataram every 2 days and performing bharatnatyam on stage. Everything else is simply blasphemous and an insult to our culture. Might as well put us all in a ghoonghat. Western cultural activites – ram ram! aise gandi baatein nahi karte.

9) ‘Talent’ is nothing but an ‘extra curricular activity’ that can be pursued on the side. ‘Studies’ are mainstream and they only include maths, science, commerce and humanities. Everything else =/= education. They’re ‘leisure activities’.

10) And finally, success = degree(s). More the degrees, more the success! Rope in a B.Com, then Eco hons., then MBA, then PhD – this combination is sure to launch you towards the sky of success! ho sake toh, ek do degrees idhar udhar se aur jod lena. Success aur bhi bad jayegi. Plus the society will respect you. Maybe you can also give a SAT and go to USA and earn in dollars?

I’ve learnt so many other valuable lessons from school, I shall discuss those in detail a bit later. But for now, I can only remember these extremely important things.

Ciao!

Does God exist?

2011-01-04T17:21:00.005+05:30

What a simple, almost mundane question. Ofcourse god exists! Should there be any doubt? The Mahabharat, Ramayana, Bible, Quran are all testament to that fact. The temples, masjids, churches, gurudwaras were not spun out of thin air. The festivals were not decided by man. Religion did not get created by itself. The ancient and holy texts cannot be refuted.

What about faith?

Where is the need? Isn’t the existence of good an internationally established and accepted belief? Faith is not a requisite. Whether you feel genuinely connected to god or not doesn’t even count. Attend keertans. Satsangs. pravachans. go to the temple twice a week. Hold a havan each time you venture into something new. Celebrate all festivals with gusto. Join your hands and say ‘Jai ram ji ki’ each time you pass by a temple. Keeps fasts for all 9 days, for all tuesdays, mondays, thurdays, on Janmashtmi and Mahashivratri and for an entire month during Ramadan.

Oh, and not to forget the holy trips to Haridwar, Rishikesh, Badrinath, Kedarnath, Vaishno Devi and the other places. A bath in the Ganges is extremely important for a pious person.

Fulfil the criteria, and it would be more than evident that your belief in god is strong like an iron pillar.

But what if I say that I don’t do all this, but I still believe in god?

It doesn’t work that way. Belief should be treated like a crown and worn all days for everyone else to see. It should be decorated on your face like a facepack that is eternally adhesive. It should be worn like a bright sari so everyone can come and validate it’s presence. It should be shown off like the Mercedes. Covering it or hiding it from the public eye nullifies it’s existence.

Is there only one God?

Ofcourse there’s only one god. But the Hindu God is better than the others.

What if I’m an atheist?

Oh, simple. You do not belong in the society. We have the right to judge you. You surely must have a closet full of short and cheap clothes. You must be a chain smoker and an alcoholic. You must have had a string of unclean affairs and you must have mistreated your parents at some point of your life. You do not deserve to get married. You are a dangerous and harmful species.

Is it okay to question one's religion?

Are you crazy? Is this what your parents have taught you?

What if I believe in god but I’m not religious?

That’s impossible. Ofcourse you have to follow your religion. What’s your surname?

Aren't we the most diverse and democratic nation?

Cheese paneer & Honey buns.

2010-12-11T06:10:00.003+05:30

Ingredients:

1) Paneer (Cottage cheese) - 4 to 5 medium cubes

2) Plain bun (or bread) - 2 to 3 pieces

3) 1 cheese cube

4) Honey - 2 tablespoons

5) Dhania powder (coriander) - 1 teaspoon

6) Red chili powder - 1 teaspoon

7) Olive oil/ghee/butter/refined oil - 1 tablespoon

8) Oregano seasoning

9) Salt to taste

Method:

In a microwave, heat the cheese and some water (about 3/4 of a cup) together in a microwave bowl so that it melts and mixes with the water. If it doesn't, mix it with a spoon once it melts. It should look like a thick sauce.

Heat a non-stick tava and pour the oil (or any of the given options) on it. Once the oil is heated, put the chili powder, dhania powder and salt in it. Fry the masala for a little while, until it becomes slightly brown (don't let it become completely black). Now add the cheese sauce to it. Mix well and fry for a 1 minute.

Now add the paneer cubes to it. Make sure all cubes have ample coating of the cheese-masala mix. Fry them for about 7-8 minutes, turning them around constantly to make sure that each side becomes brown (do not burn them!) and the sauce is completely coated on the cubes.

Now take the cubes out on a plate.

On a non-stick tava, pour 1 tablespoon honey and let it heat. Now put the bun (or bread) on top of it and cook for a while. Follow the same procedure with the other buns/bread slices aswell. To add to taste, you may add some butter.

Once the bread is brown on both sides, take it out on the plate on which the cubes are already placed.

Sprinkle oregano seasoning on the paneer cubes and dig into your food!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 – review

2010-11-19T23:51:00.006+05:30

This review contains Spoilers.

I squealed like a mad fangirl when the Warner Brothers’ sign appeared on the screen, I almost jumped too but then I realized I was sitting in a hall packed with fans. Let’s get this straight – this film isn’t going to make you happy. Period. Although there are bittersweet moments in the film that’ll make you smile, it won’t last for long because the inevitable sense of doom and destruction returns soon enough.

Right from the moment it starts, and till the moment it ends, the solemn feeling of sadness is consistently blended with each and every scene. These characters, that we’ve literally grown up with, have become extremely close to us fans. Hence, each and every emotion that they experience envelopes the viewers sitting in the hall as well.

First off, this film is not for anyone who has not been following the movies and/or books consistently and religiously. Each and every small detail has been magnified, which also brings me to the second point – that this film, out of all, is the truest to the book. Director David Yates has taken very little liberties with this one and anyone who doesn’t remember the book by heart will not even notice. It was like watching the book unfold on the magnum opus scale, and it nailed each and every scene. I must have thought, ‘That’s exactly how I imagined it!’ at least a million times during the film.

It begins with the Minister of magic, Rufus Scrimgeour addressing the press in the Ministry of Magic, followed by an individual introduction of the three characters – Harry, Hermione and Ron. They’re not smiling and packing their trunks to board the Hogwarts Express now. Instead they’re preparing themselves for a journey that will perhaps prove to be the longest and hardest journey of their lives.

The film picks up pace soon after the opening scene, and in no time you’ll find yourself in the middle of an air-borne war that ends with a brutally injured George Weasley and a dead Mad-Eye. The wedding celebrations that follow seem to be painted with greyscale too, even though there is plenty of music and colour.

Seconds later, the trio are now on the run and find solace (for a while) in 12 Grimmauld Place. The film loosens up a bit from here and the focus shifts from ‘trying to find a secure place’ to the relationships between the characters. It is only then that you realize how strong of a bond these three share, how their friendship has been tested time and again, and how they have always managed to emerge as ‘The Golden Trio’. However, everything isn’t hunky dory in that aspect either as Ron begins to feel left out and estranged. One of the high points of the film is when he walks out.

The friendship between Harry and Hermione has always been touted as the one based on sheer faith and trust, and this film is a testament to that. For all Harmony fans, there is a dance between these two which is sure to take you by surprise! They silently support each other through the journey and try to keep that ray of hope illuminated amidst all the darkness.

It picks up pace once again after the trio visit Xenophilius Lovegood, who educates them about the Deathly Hallows. Watch out for the animated version of the tale of the three brothers – it’s a brilliant animated rendition of the story, one of the best that I’ve seen in recent times. (Oscars – are you listening?)

The trio are snatched by the snatchers soon after and are taken to the Malfoy Manor. The entire scene here belongs to two people – Dobby and Hermione, or Emma Watson to be precise. She proves why she is clearly the one who has evolved most as an actor. Her screams and tears are sure to linger for a long time. Dobby – he truly is the unsung hero of the Harry Potter series. The moment he said, ‘Dobby is a free elf’, the entire hall broke into a round of applause and hoots. Not to mention, his death scene was the most poignant and emotional scene of the entire film.

Coming to the performances – they’re another reason why this film works so much.

Daniel Radcliffe – He embodies Harry like no other. It’s almost like the character has sunk into his very being. Harry is imperfect, he’s clumsy, sarcastic, irritable, emotionally constraint, and yet he’s the best contemporary hero. Daniel captures exactly that and proves once again why he is the only one who could have portrayed Harry. Best scene? A tie between the godric’s hollow scene and the one where he has a fight with Ron.

Emma Watson – She was the best this time, hands down. I have always rooted for her, even when she wasn’t so good. With this film she has surpassed herself. Right from the scene where she utters a quiet ‘Obliviate’ to the scene where she is brutally tortured by Bellatrix, she enacts with so much finesse and excellence that it’s hard to believe that she was mediocre at one point of time.

Rupert Grint – He has been consistently good as Ron Weasley. But this time, I’m glad we got to see the darker side of his character – which he executed brilliantly. His growing affection for Hermione is sweet and Rupert truly knows how to capture the ‘smitten’ look. Best scene? The one where he destroys the horcrux – intense!

The elder cast is as usual, stunning. There is hardly anything I can say about them because they define their characters so brilliantly. I love Helena Bohnam Carter, she makes Bellatrix so deliciously evil! She isn’t there much but she steals the show each time she enters the frame. Ralph Fiennes is the ultimate evil – Lord Voldermort is haunting only because of Fiennes. Staunton returns as the giggly, pinky yet nasty Umbrigde. She wickedly smirks and gets rid of muggleborns as easily as doing away with flies. Rickman portrays the cold and calculative Snape amazingly yet again.

The ending scene of the film, where Lord Voldermort mercilessly rips Dumbledore’s grave apart to steal the Elder Ward, sets the tone for the next and last film perfectly. The way he shoots a powerful spell in the sky spells ‘War’ in bold, underlined letters.

In the end, there isn’t much action in the film but book-fans won’t miss it either. It was an awesome build up to an explosive bomb which I’m sure will explode in the last film. In a way, I am happy that all the action has been put aside for the second part while this one just focuses on the friendship between these three. You won’t get to see such moments in the second film.

It didn’t drag; infact I was so engrossed in the film that the ending was actually a surprise.

Potterheads, go watch it! It’s worth the wait.

4/5.

P.S - The Harmony fan inside of me grew by 10x!

Ultimate conclusion

2010-11-09T23:33:00.007+05:30

I have come to the conclusion that the world of marks is very much like the world of addiction. It’s attractive and destructive at the same time. It’s hard to let go of. It’s overpowering.

You might think drugs and alcohol are the two most lethal addictions that the world has to offer to the adolescent population. Well, think again. ‘Marks’ is an addiction that has been a part of our civilization and system all along, albeit completely overlooked as a potential threat. In fact, ‘marks’ is a socially accepted addiction that thrives on encouragement from the society. Students are encouraged to indulge deeper and deeper into this bottomless black sea of marks, and by the time one realizes how deep they’ve gotten, it’d already be too late.

Getting ‘good’ marks such as 95% and above is like an elongated high. It’s like floating on the 9th cloud and in the 7th heaven for a while. It makes you feel as if you’re the most important person on the face of earth. But once this elongated high comes to an end, the blow you face is as hardcore as castration.

It’s an ugly comparison; but quite real. I feel there should be a help group for people who’re addicted to marks called the ‘Markoholics Anonymous’. It will help them realize the ramifications of this serpentine disease, and slowly detach them from the addiction. It is extremely important to make the society markoholism free, it is slowly eating it up from inside and making it hollow, and we don’t even realize it.

Someone who has been an addict for as long as 2 or maybe 3 years, finds it extremely difficult to face withdrawal when they do hit him/her in the face. For example, if an A student gets below 80, he feels devastated, desolated and defeated. The 3 D’s of markoholism destruction. He cribs, twitches, cries, weeps, experiences sleepless nights and days devoid of emotion, and yet the disease continues to stick to him like a parasite.

It saddens me to know that this is a socially acceptable, actually not just acceptable, socially solicited disease. The deeper a student slips into this hellhole, the more is the appreciation.

Finally, the ultimate conclusion is that markoholism shuts everything else out from one’s life, including life. You forget everything and plunge into this blind, dark, ceaseless race of the rats. And from there, it just gets worse.

It is highly advised to everyone who is reading this piece of knowledge, to please try and keep away from this disease. It’s ugly. At the end of it all, you will be left mentally raped and sorely bruised.

Save yourself from being fucked.

Dark chocolate brownie (eggless)

2010-10-17T12:07:00.001+05:30

Ingredients:

5 cups milk

3 table spoons dark cocoa powder

2 table spoons drinking chocolate

50 grams melted butter

1 cup flour (maida) - approx 150 g.

Vanilla essence (optional)

1 1/2 cups sugar

1/2 cup boiled water

Method:

Heat the milk in a large pan. When it starts to boil, add cocoa powder, drinking chocolate, sugar and melted butter. Mix well.

Heat the mixture until it condenses and becomes slightly thick. Take it off stove and let it cool for 5 minutes.

In another bowl, pour the floor and the boiled water. Mix well. Add the chocolate mix to it. Add half a teaspoon of baking powder.

Beat the mixture for 5 minutes. It should become smooth and consistent. Bake for 6 minutes in microwave and 30 minutes in oven (around 375F)

p.s - this is my method of coping and not to mention, experimenting with the chemistry lab called kitchen.

yet another performance.

2010-09-04T02:21:00.001+05:30

The stage is one addictive place. You perform once, you want to perform again and again. After last time’s performance got over, I knew it wasn’t the last time that I danced on the stage. I knew there was more to come. And it did.

Teacher’s Day – does it mean anything nowadays? nope. But it was still an opportunity for me to go up on that stage once again. Perhaps the last one in this school. And so one day, while sitting with my friends after the exams had got over, I made the decision to perform yet again. It took me a while to rope in all of them (we’re a group of 5), but ultimately my offer was one that was hard to refuse. So all of them agreed.

Like last time, this time too, the journey was more memorable than the destination. We had our fair share of fights, ego hassles, and what not. And I knew it would happen because after all, this time I wasn’t dealing with smaller kids, these people were my peers, my friends. I couldn’t possibly yell at them like they were below me. So I had to think of various different ways to tackle them without jeopardizing the dance (which was very difficult, if I may add)

Our choreography was much more complex this time, 5x number of formations, and 100x speed of steps. Halfway through the song, and half of us would already be panting. But we had set a goal – it had to be a breakthrough performance. For me, it was not just a performance, it was much more than that. I really don’t know how to explain it in words.

We decided to do something different this time. So we shifted base from ‘semi-classical’ to ‘semi-western’. I’m not very confident when it comes to the western style of dance but this time round I had my jazz training backing me up (yay!) so throwing in western steps was easier. Also, our costumes were pretty simple. In fact, they wouldn’t even qualify to be called ‘costumes’ because we wore simple kurtas and leggings.

Talking of clothing, that was a controversy in it’s own. Our teacher in charge, Ms. ‘Nut’ Kaput, was completely against what we had decided to wear. She said she didn’t want our ‘curves’ to be highlighted on stage (layered with some unwanted and nasty comments on me) and hence we should not wear leggings. Also, in order to avoid cheap comments from boys, we should wear ‘duppattas’ to hide our assets. Um, I had a better idea. Why couldn’t we just wear burqas?

Anyway, I was extremely hurt by her comment, so I decided to rebel against her by not wearing exactly what she had asked us to wear. I informed everyone and we came to a mutual decision that salwar and duppatta would make us look like clowns on stage, and that we would wear leggings and no duppatta would be taken on stage. Even though, she gave us a good scolding before we went on stage, neither of really gave us a fuck. She was just a ‘loser’ teacher, anyway.

And then, we performed with all the energy we had in us. I could feel that it was going well. After having performed quite a few times on stage, I’m no longer afraid of looking at the audience. Their faces excited me even more. It was super fun dancing because all of us were bubbling with energy and excitement. I think 10 seconds into the song, and all of us had already overcome the nervousness.

I left immediately after the performance got over, but my folks who stayed back told me that they received a lot of compliments from various teachers and students alike. I wish I was there to personally receive some of them, but I’m glad everyone like it.

Ultimately, I had a blast this time! and would I perform again, if given a chance? Hell, yes.

Hungry kya?

2010-08-17T19:55:00.001+05:30

I feel so hungry during exams that I might just end up gaining 30 kilos in just a week. Mental exhaustion is perhaps more tiring than physical exhaustion, and hence one feels even more hungry. I have strictly advised my mom not to buy any junk food for me in this week, because if she does, it’ll be over in 5 minutes. That’s the speed at which I’m hogging.

I come back from school at 11:30 am. And eat. Then I sleep for 3+ hours, and then I eat. I study for an hour, and then I eat. Then I study for 2 hours at a stretch and then I eat. Then comes the jagran time, and well, I keep eating during all those hours that I’m awake. Nachos, cheese balls, chocolate, coke cans, biscuits – you name it. Oh and not to forget, black coffee! – an inevitable part of pulling all nighters (:

I didn’t eat even half of what I’m eating now during the dance practice times. In fact, then the focus was more on ‘sleeping’ than eating. But now, I’m surprised at how much I’m eating in a day.

Of course, all the food is adding to the lethargy. Getting up in the morning is as difficult as shifting a huge rock from it’s place.

Exams is such a screwed up time, seriously. Half the time is spent eating and the other half dissing the school and teachers for holding exams in the first place. When do we study? IN THE NIGHT! ;)

I think I need to eat again. Ciao!

Centre stage

2010-08-08T16:49:00.005+05:30

The stage was set. The music was in place. The audience sat waiting for the performance to start. Our group was nervous yet excited. This was the D-Day. The day we had been waiting for since the day we came together as a group.

I was getting the jitters in my stomach. Breathing, walking, jumping, nothing helped. I thought of the innumerable things that could go wrong with the dance – what if the costumes ditched us at the last moment? what if the CD didn’t play? what if some of us forgot the steps? what if I forgot the steps? and since disturbing thoughts always seem to linger in my mind for much longer than positive thoughts, I was convinced that we were goners even before stepping foot on the stage.

I peeked my head out from the backstage to have a look at the audience. They intimidated me even more. My group was trying to be confident but you know it when one is just faking it when they talk as fast as one of those Insurance disclaimer readers, and smile constantly like a bride before the jaymala ceremony.
Basically, we were all nervous.

Our introduction was given and it was time for us to perform. My friend and I stepped onto the stage from either sides and gave each other a reassuring look before moving ahead. I forced myself to drop the nervousness and focus on, ‘We’re going to rock’.

Positions were taken. The music started and before I knew it, we had taken the big plunge and were dancing before the audience. It took about a minute for me to stop my legs from wobbling like jelly. And then slowly the surroundings became irrelevant and the passion for dance overcame the fear. The steps became clearer and I could sense the coordination falling into place. Our feet and hands moved in sync and that was the moment I knew that yes, a group performance was happening.

It got over the moment it started. As we ended the dance, the auditorium erupted into a huge round of applause – one that was perhaps the loudest that I had heard in this school. The auditorium echoed with the energy that we brought forth on stage.

As we made our way back towards the changing room, we didn’t realize what we had done. There was a certain amount of satisfaction – we knew we did well, but actual realization happened when we opened the door to a huge wave of compliments. I was genuinely surprised because people who were absolute strangers to me were walking up to us and telling us how wonderful the performance was.

Old teachers, new teachers – you name it, everyone came and said that we rocked it. It was then that all of us felt like jumping into the air and screaming, ‘We did it!’

My mom was there to watch the function and she told me how she couldn’t contain the excitement she felt while watching us perform. She said we were so energetic that the audience almost wanted to get up and dance with us. The director acknowledged me in his speech. He expressed how happy he was to see new and such good talent perform on stage.

All of us had a huge grin on our faces that refused to be wiped off for a very long time. The principal herself came up to us and complimented us. She also said that the head of the primary section liked it so much that she wants us to perform for the smaller kids again. It was an extremely humbling moment for all of us. It was like tasting stardom after a lot of practice, but after just an overnight show.

Compliments continued to pour in from teachers and students alike, for the rest of the day. I couldn’t focus in class and the dance must replayed in my mind at least 10000000000000000000000 times.

We set a standard that day. I wanted to show the school what ‘dance’ really is. And I did. Our school sucks major fucking ass when it comes to dance, but now, anything below this new standard will at least be considered bad, and will not be accepted just because. We have had to face a lot of shit along the way but in the end, it all fell into place and it was worth it. Every bit of it.

The entire week sped past like a bullet, but I remember each and every moment as vividly as a painting on the wall. Bunking classes, looking for costumes, yelling at the group, brainstorming about the next step, fighting with the other dance group and rejoicing after getting a step right. It was hell of a hectic ride, but I’ll cherish this entire week for a long time.

I’m still giddy and week-kneed. Yes, even after 2 days. It feels awesome to have accomplished something that you dreamt of for 10 days, day in and day out. The feeling is bittersweet too, because now that it’s over, I don’t want to let go of the dream.

3 CHEERS TO US.

Overpowering force..

2010-08-02T21:06:00.002+05:30

Wishful thinking. It’s an overpowering force. The more one goes deeper, the desire for it to come true increases by a notch. You begin with a vague idea, and it slowly becomes a perfectly designed dream with all it’s fine details in place. And if you’re the architect, then you’d find something that needs correction each time.

In a nutshell, that’s what I’m feeling right now. House dance – it’s no big deal. People do it all the time. But for me, it’s beyond the petty function and the low standard set by teachers and students alike. The only thing I can see and imagine is the stage. It’s the centre stage. I’m under confident about public speaking but dancing is something that comes so naturally that confidence follows. Days and nights have melted into one and classes seem like the most insignificant thing in the world.

Homework, schoolwork etc – everything has become secondary. The only thing that matters is that dance, and how it can be refined, corrected, bettered, made even more applause worthy. The teachers think we’re doing pretty good so far, but I want to see the kind of expression on their faces that says, ‘BANG ON. This is what we need’

By now, I’ve listened to the song so many times that it’s each note, each word, each instrument has registered itself in my mind like a tattoo. One could pull me out of bed at 3 am in the morning and ask me to come for practice and I’d do that. 3 days to go for the dance and I pick out 3 million things that yet need to be corrected. Practically, I won’t be able to correct all those 3 million things, but the perfect dream doesn’t allow me to think of that option – It has to be perfect. It has to be such, that people are forced to get up and give us a standing ovation.

I’m physically and mentally exhausted, but there’s this excitement that makes me feel that it’s worth it. It should be worth it. We have had teachers doubt our credibility and potential, we have had our dance on the verge of getting cancelled, we have had song changes, and what not. But when things like these happen, somewhere the determination becomes stronger. A simple cakewalk wouldn’t have been so exciting.
I do want to thank my partner (atleast for the time being) who helped me choreograph this dance and teach the entire team, throughout. And also the folks on our team. They’ve also worked hard, very hard, infact.

Kudos to them for going that extra mile to make this work. It will work, guys. We rock.

:)

Emotional Atyachaar?

2010-07-26T21:54:00.003+05:30

I decided to take part in this year’s house function. Now stone me.

Looks like this is the principle our school follows. The teachers hate it when you take part in some activity and have to miss certain classes to go for practice sessions. They will develop a grudge against you and keep it safely tucked away until it sprouts up again in some other matter. They will give you those ‘I-mean-danger’ looks every time you look at them or worse; they will make sure that you get a glimpse of that look so that you get all frizzled up inside.

I’ve come to the conclusion that ‘passion’ can never be appreciated in our education system. Of course, unless it is passion for ‘academics’ (as our lovely teachers might put it), because passionate people are crazy, wild, obsessive and indulgent. They more often than not perfectionists and do what they do with an ace-finesse. If it has to be done, then it has to be done perfectly. Fuck the fucking ‘balance’, fuck the fucking ‘homework’, fuck teachers. Fuck everything else.

And this is exactly what our school hates. If you’re a crazy lunatic, then you’re an irresponsible, careless, dishonest, nonchalant, disrespectful student who deserves to be given extra punishment for a mistake committed equally by everyone. Your participation in something other than studies confirms your presence on the grill bed for the next 2 weeks.

We have 5 subjects in total. 2 of which are taught by the same teacher. So in all, we have 4 teachers to combat. Each teacher ends up saying, ‘Oh, you find my class to go for your practice sessions? you think xyz is a useless subject…’ and blah blah blah. Now the question is – If every teacher says the same thing, when are we supposed to go for practice? If some teacher is reading this rant, then I’d genuinely like him/her to stand up and answer this question.

Are you all so fucking self-absorbed and self-centred that the world beyond a radius of 20 cm ceases to exist for you? Amidst all the lectures and taunts, the students who has made the once-in-a-lifetime mistake of taking part in something, is mentally and emotionally crushed.

Here’s the simple question – Is taking part in something a crime?

I remember how when I was in a boarding school, extra ‘practice’ time was given to students so that they wouldn’t have to bunk classes. And yes, it was given to us during the school hours. The little ‘extra time’ made all that difference. My mother, who is a big cynic, also says that she hasn’t seen a more beautiful performance on a school level ever before.

And as for our school, well, let’s just say that Rakhi Sawant’s half naked dance looks better than our so-called ‘performance’. Watch it for a good laugh and that’s about it. And perhaps our school and teachers have become used to this C-grade standard of performances, hence anyone who makes an effort to do something better is instantly laughed upon and bogged down.

‘Itni tension kyun le rahe ho?’

‘Dance ke liye classes miss karne ki kya zaroorat hai?’

‘Jao din bhar dance hi karo, school mein padne ke liye to aate hi nahi ho!’

etc etc etc.

I’m one of those crazy passionate lunatics who made this mistake. Moreover, I want this performance to be the best fucking performance in the history of our school. And now I’m being chastised for it. Today, the teachers use the standard homework issue, tomorrow, they’ll question my commitment towards studies, and on the third day, I’ll be labelled as one of those ‘incorrigible’ (bigdi hui) kids whose parents need to be called each time they get up from their seats.

Today was submission day. In spite of being emotionally saturated and not being in the right frame of mind, I spent a few hours to get the pending homework done so I could submit it today. Yes, a few worksheets here and there, a few chapters were skipped, but then, nobody ever submits the entire homework. It’s always given to the teacher in bits and pieces, basically students try to cover their ass – so did I.

But it was sheer dumbness on my part to ask for permission to practice in our accounts class. Our teacher grudgingly allowed us to leave. She started collecting homework. My turn came. Then she remembered, ‘OMG, I sent her outside. Gee. This is an awesome chance to get some sadistic pleasure out of humiliating her’

I was called back. I submitted whatever I had done. She called me to her desk and asked where the rest of the homework was. I swear by then I could almost see the red devil’s horns growing out of her head.
Lie – was the word that my mind screamed. Being truthful doesn’t help; she would only embarrass me further. So I lied. I said I had done in a different register and I forgot to get it. Being the bitch that she is, she gave me a lecture on how she wouldn’t know whether I was even being honest or not, and how ‘truth’ is the most powerful thing in the world. Some shit like that.

Then she took my actual register and skimmed through to check whether I had done my class work properly or not. Unfortunately most of my work was complete so she missed out that shot to yell at me. But then again, she’s a bitch, so she found another shitty point to make me feel like trash.

A day will come when class 12th students will be asked to tie a napkin to their shirts and hang water bottles around their necks. If someone fails to do that, he/she will be executed on a cross like Jesus christ. And so will the parents.

She then threatened to call my mother. And then came the dumbest and the most infuriating comment ever. She said, ‘I know you live very close, so after school gets over. I’m going to wait for you here in school until you come back and show that separate register to me’

Oh yeah? Well. FUCK YOU. okay? Kindly oblige us by remembering that you’re a teacher only till 2 pm IST. Beyond that, you’re just as ‘normal’ a citizen to me as anybody else walking on a footpath. I’m bloody not paying you to listen to your bullshit after school hours too. No way in hell am I coming back to show you a fucking register.

But the point is, all of this just happened in my mind. I stood there quietly, not being able to know what to say to that. It was pretty clear that she wasn’t pissed at me for just ‘homework’ – It was because I had dared to miss her class. How does one respond to that?

Yes. She pissed me off. People like her make your talent and effort seem worthless and equal to horseshit. People like her cannot think beyond, ‘I, me, myself’ – if it’s something related to commerce or accounts, one can skip as many classes as they want. But if it has nothing to do with her, well, then you’re supposed to stick your ass to that seat and not even dare to move an inch. Hypocrisy much?

Its not the fact that she yelled at me in front of everyone that bothers me. It’s the fact that I was singled out for a mistake that everyone was responsible for equally. Why were others allowed to get away with just one warning and I was subjected to threats to call my parents, asked to get my register right after school and given a zillion demeaning looks? Why this unfairness? Why not call everybody’s parents? Why am I the only one bearing the brunt?

Certain questions will never be answered. But her bitchy attitude has actually made my determination even stronger. This IS going to be the best fucking performance and the hardest fucking slap on her face.
I just want to thank my friend, Suneha, for helping me out today and other times that I’ve whined and cribbed. Thankyou for understanding.

Sorry about the terribly long rant.

Feeling insignificant in the system

2010-07-06T22:40:00.003+05:30

I'm probably writing this post out of frustration towards school and the entire education system in general, because the more I look around the real world, the feeling of detachment increases. Yes, I feel detached from school, homework, teachers, schoolmates and even my friends, to a certain extent. Each day that I walk towards that building, the only thing that goes on in my mind is - Wow, each step towards school is like each step away from my reality.

I know that most of my blog posts are full of hatred and sarcasm towards school. But now, I don't even feel those. Just detachment. Just a sense of alienation. I no longer know how to react towards people or teachers. I pity those students who think that bursting open their lungs infront of the entire class with maa-behen ki gaaliyaan makes them stronger or more 'gutsy', I pity those students whose balls increase by 10x when they're in a dominating group and decrease by 100x when they're alone, I pity those students who feel that clicking pics in City Select Walk every weekend and uploading them on Facebook makes them cooler and smarter, and I pity those teachers who even think that they're 'teachers'. In my opinion, they don't deserve the title.

I know for a fact that all these 'strong' students will piss in their pants if they're stuck without transport at night. Oh and mummy won't be there either, but that's okay, group kab kaam aayega? Sirf school mein bathroom jaane ke liye?

Infact, all of this is laughable. School is a different world altogether, aloof from reality or all the wordly problems. Only problem is, I don't connect with this world. Fake, is the word that comes to my mind whenever I enter those gates. Education, you say? No sir, it's all about marks now. There should be no confusion regarding this fact. There is no such thing as 'education' - it's an idealistic and unintentional joke that belongs in school newspapers and magazines. The word looks awesome on our website but that's pretty much about it.

Bottomline - 12th ka result kharab nahi hona chahiye. What will they publish in their magazine and newspaper otherwise? Talks about Gandhi and lessons on being good? Well, they're all useless fillers that need to be fed to the maganize to make it look thicker. The real deal is the results. I feel bad for people who take out time and write those articles. No one reads them, folks. Save your time and energy.

And so I've decided not to take part in anything related to 'writing' in school. I used to be enthusiastic about it a while back but now I've hit ground reality. It's an insult to my talent (whatever 0.1% that I do have) and I might end up losing my creative inspiration once I start writing for school. So nada from my side.

They talk about creativity, but it's ironic how they're exactly the ones who kill it. A child from KG would be more creative than a class 12th student. I remember how in class 10th, we had student mentor classes for children of classes 1 and 2. I've never hidden my dislike towards small children but I noticed something during my sessions with them - They all loved to scribble and draw in their art books. Sometimes they drew some real funny combinations in their books but what really mattered was the immense interest and zeal they drew with. Although their class teachers had advised us not to allow them to draw (read above point about school being the one killing creativity) and teach them instead, I never stopped them. It was endearing to see even 1% of real passion in a place like school.

All of us (and that includes me to a great extent too) cannot think beyond our accounts, business studies, maths and eco books. Our creativity and passion were murdered long ago, and funny thing is, we didn't even realize it. Only unfortunate students like me chose to acknowledge the murder and mourn over it. Others are pretty cool with the transition from a real brain to a robotic machine. Heck, I used to draw huts and lakes as a kid and now if I'm asked to draw a hut, the first thing I'll do is rummage through my pencil box for a goddamn scale.

I have nothing to say about the teahcers except of the fact that they lack passion. That says it all. Not just my school, in every school. My mother once told me how her english teacher's eyes lit up when she talked about literature. My english teacher has dead eyes, and that's why the class's interest is dead too. They're teachers because they couldn't do anything else in life, so they decided to fill that void in life by becoming a teacher - perhaps that'd decrease the burden of failure by a small margin.
In the end, I think this sentence sums up my thoughts - I'm detached now. It's like looking at another planet through a glass pane. You see it, but you don't feel anything.

A train journey and something to eat

2010-06-08T18:32:00.001+05:30

I'm on my way to Kashipur, my grandparent's place. It's a place where I've spent 6 years of my life. With a bag full of clothes, another full of chappals and a jhola full of food to eat, I boarded my train.

I've always been fond of train journeys, particularly during the day. They're a chance to rewind, introspect, think, listen, watch and most of all, pause. Life is too fast. It doesn't give you a chance to stop, turn around and look at the footsteps that led you to where you are. But if you want one, then trust me and board a train.

When I look out of the window, I'm reminded of the spectacular beauty our world still holds. Although the beauty passes by in the wink of an eye, it's registered effect lasts for a long time.

A soft breeze is blowing outside. It makes me want to run outside and experience the wind too. Countless number of fields have passed. I saw a few kids playing on one of them a while ago. Wonder whether they cherish the freedom they were enjoying. The mindless flight that knew no boundaries.

The atmosphere seems so calm. For a change, I see more nature than humanity around me. Vast stretches of fields and not one human in sight. It's like looking at a painting without a single blotch.

Something like this and music. It's a beautiful combination. I can somehow associate the mood of every song with the weather. It's so many things, all at once - serene, calm yet melancholic. Fun, upbeat yet soft.

I think I should sign off now. My rambling would never cease. So ultimately, wanna treat yourself? Catch a train. Don't forget music.

And food.

The Kajra girls!

2010-05-27T12:08:00.001+05:30

When do you know that the limit of vellapanti has been crossed? Yep, that’s right – when you start converting old songs into crappy remixes. That’s exactly what my friend and I did on the last day of school before vacations began.

So, we all know about the song ‘Kajra mohabbat wala’, ever thought how it might sound with some English rap and western beats? well yeah, there are plenty of lame remixes out there in the market, but they ain’t got any class, dwude. This one’s got ‘em all.

We put our brains together and came up with an amazing track. My friend’s a good singer, so she sang the original hindi part, and me, well, I decided to do the rap part. And as you might have guessed, it was pretty darned awesome.

We’ve decided to give it some nice music and record the song next time she comes to my house. We’re then going to look for some nice, hot, sexy, bootylicious models who can pose for the front cover of our album. They can cover their assets with a bunch of flowers, and the title will be ‘THE KAJRA GIRLS!’

Oh and they have to be firangis. That’s the taste of today.

And my friend and I will be the ultimate remix composers! RAWR!

Here’s a toast to the future hotfuckingawesome composers!

Classic literature

2010-05-02T00:50:00.003+05:30

Once, there was a vampire. He was a vegetarian. Then there was a girl. She was a non-vegetarian human. He sparkled. She cried. They fell in love because he was fast and she smelled good. Later, they got married. Then they had a baby (?), and lived happily ever after.

If this classic piece of literature had to be summed up, then I guess the above summation fits the bill. Author Stephanie Meyer bestowed upon this planet, the finest and best romance novel in 2005 – Twilight. Since then, the popularity and fame of this series has increased by leaps and bounds. The rabid teenage fangirls made sure that Twilight occupied none but the first place. They screamed, yelled, hit, scratched, and almost killed (jeez?) the people who didn’t like Twilight, or in other words, were stupid and moronic enough to critique it.

You see, Edward and his fellow Cullens are perfect. Flawless. Then how can one possibly pick out a flaw ?

Following the success of Twilight, S.Meyer decided to continue satisfying the desperate fangirls who devoured the series with astonishing relish. Clearly, the series, which can easily be called soft po*n, thrives upon these girls’ wet dreams.

However, SM didn’t realize that she had consequently tortured the other half of the world, namely, the Anti-Twilighters, who were beaten to silence by the Twitards. They didn’t have enough balls(after being subjected to horrific torture by the Twitards) to express their hatred, and so SM had no idea of the fact that there are people who do dislike her trash.

Coming to the characters. Let me just say that the characters in fairytales that we read as children, had more depth than the so-called vampire and the, well, bitch.

Anywho, there was one aspect that I found extremely fascinating – Edward and Bella have a baby. Now, I haven’t read the last book but that’s what I’ve heard. Mythology says that once someone is a vampire, all their bodily fluids stop. Which scientifically implies that it is impossible for a vampire to have kids. But ofcourse, dear ol’ SM didn’t bother to read mythology, or do any research for that matter. Because in her wet dream, vampires are the sweetest little things who can have babies. You see, Twilight defies all logic, science and reason. But hey, who cares as long as the girls are satisfied, yeah baby?

Another thing that I found extremely interesting was the love story itself. As per thousands of claims, it has a profound meaning and depth. Even though the depth escapes me, let me try to see the premise upon which this romance is built – Obsession to the point of insanity and neurological problems like chronic depression and suicidal thoughts. Stalking someone while they’re sleeping (OMFG, isn’t that cute?), bitching, moping, crying, and ofcourse, sparkling.

Now, isn’t all this romantic? I bet it is. Afterall, ladies ranging from 15 to 75 drool over the pages of this book due to such passionate traits.

Lastly, I would only like to say that this book has been life-changing for me. It has changed my perspective on alot of things. First and foremost, it has made me lose my remaining faith in womanhood. Seriously? Girls suck. It has also ruined the classic genre known as ‘vampires’. No one will ever dare to write about vampires after such a blasphemy. The genre has been raped. Thirdly, it has re-instilled my belief in the fact that the world is, afterall, sex-hungry, and accepts po*n in whichever way they get it. Even if it’s in a mild form like Twilight.

Thankyou, SM, you opened my eyes to the real world. *Sigh*

Dearest douche bags

2010-03-23T23:42:00.001+05:30

And so we got our report card today. For a normal kid this day would have extremely important. But not for a mental kid like me. I couldn’t care less. I’m pretty cool as long as I pass. But the problem is that my nonchalance is not received well by the school.

My mom went there, took my report card, listened to all the things that the teachers had to say about me and quietly came back.

But I sincerely have something to say to these assholes today.

Dearest douche bags,

Thank you for promoting me. I cannot, for the infinite centuries yet to arrive, payback your debt. I understand how much of an effort it must have taken to let me walk to the next level, how your hands must have shivered before signing that report card, how you must have thought about the school’s reputation before letting me sit in 12th C, and so on. You’d rather have me kicked out from your paradise but unfortunately the fact that I’ve always paid my fees snatches away your right to do so legally.

We have been very cordially informed that if my attendance isn’t up to the mark this year, then I won’t be allowed to sit for my boards. There is absolutely nothing that we can do about it, and even going to the court of law will not help. Again, my gracious thanks to you for informing us in legal terms. I guess my face exudes certain court-friendly expressions. We’re being extremely mature in taking this unnecessary bit of information in our stride, no other normal person would even consider this vital. But we’re not normal, a fact that I’ve already established in the beginning of this article. We’re mental. Retarded.

Lastly, I understand that academic achievement (or the lack thereof) is pretty much the one and only reason for our existence (or the lack thereof), and therefore, I promise to work as hard I can, in order to push our school further up in the rank list. So that you can take pride in being one of the top 10 schools of Delhi, even if it means killing thousands of irrecoverable brain cells.

I love you, teachers. You all are the most mature, sensitive, intelligent and simply wonderful human beings that I’ve met. Your never ending taunts, complaints, venting sessions, insults and daunting accusations have made me a much better person. Thankyou.

A lame student,

Fuck you.

All it took..

2010-03-12T19:29:00.004+05:30

Our finals are finally over. I’m feeling really relieved, not because of the fact that they’re over, mainly because of the fact that the entire ‘phase’, all the stress and anxiety, all the nervousness is over. The ‘hype’ is over. The border has been crossed, and the soldiers have triumphed in their test.

All it took was 2 weeks. All it took was 12 days and 11 nights. All it took was two all nighters, two hundred cups of black coffee, two thousand minutes of worry, two lakh prayers of hope and two crore wishes to pass.

All it took was 2 seconds for the school to make 20202202 things happen within us. Just 2 seconds of fear.

And now that it’s finally over, there are going to be another 7 days of worry before the results come out. 7 days of worry, 168 hours of unexpressed tension, 10080 minutes of nagging thoughts, and 604800 seconds of death. Every second is a death.

And all it took was 7 seconds for the school to make us believe we could flunk. Just 7 seconds.

I would be extremely untruthful if I said I’m not scared. I am. I’m shit scared. I don’t want to repeat another year in school. But if I flunk, I’m going to leave this school. I don’t want to spend another 365 days in a death camp, 8760 hours watching my fear materialize, 525600 seconds to learn everything that I already know. Only to meet those 7 seconds of fear once again.

I dream of looking at my school and seeing a monster instead. A ruthless, faceless and relentless monster. He is camouflaged as an angel, and the world can see the angel. But I can see beyond the thick veil he wears. I can see his merciless eyes waiting for his preys to come to him. But he doesn’t kill them. He tortures them for a long, long time. He rapes them emotionally and mentally. And at the end of the fixed period, he tells his preys to get past his teeth, or else, bear the same torture again.

The monster is the school, and spending years there is equivalent to torture. We’ve been taught not to question anyone who educates you, we feel it’s morally incorrect. But what to do when facilitators of education are the ones that are destroying it themselves?

All it took was 10 seconds for my dream to finish. And 1 second to know that failing was not an option.
All it really took, though, was a choice made 16 years ago. The consequences, like the bag, have only become heavier since then.

The one place to be avoided.

2010-03-09T15:39:00.004+05:30

Nationalised banks. Yep, you heard it right. Nationalized banks should be avoided at every cost. They’re the smaller counterparts of our Indian Railway Station, and god forbid if you go to one of the branches between 12 pm – 2 pm, you’re walking right into a fish market. A very ugly, rowdy and noisy fish market.

The employees are absolutely nonchalant and don’t give a fuck about either the time or the customers/people who’re standing in the bank (generally for more than 2 hours) Particularly the ladies. Scratch that. Aunties, to be precise. They got married at the age of 19, produced 3 babies by the age of 23, and then because they started getting bored at home, they decided to do a sarkaari naukri in a sarkaari bank. Now they’re simply gaining weight and hatching eggs on their permanent seats.

They have no sense of work ethics, they could might as well be in some neighbor's house gossiping about every living soul. The bank opens at 8 am and closes at 2 pm, and for 3 out of 6 hours, they talk to their husbands (mobile phone) about what sabzi needs to be bought for dinner. And if a customer complains about getting late, then those ladies shower him/her with their wrath. Who gives a fuck about people getting late? My khaana should be made on time.

If they’re annoyed (probably at their husbands for not getting the sabzi) they’ll pass unwanted comments on you for no reason –

Aapko sign karna nahi aata!

Bank mein kam se kam pen to laana chahiye

Arre bhai kar rahi hoon na! Itni jaldi kyun hai?

Ye note hum nahi le sakte, ise badal kar laiyye

Humara abhi lunch time hai

Etc etc etc. You have to put in all your effort to refrain yourself from bursting out ‘STFU’, ‘Shut up you bitch!’ and ‘Bhaunkna band kar!’, and instead, you clench your fists and give a toothy smile.

I’ve finally arrived at a conclusion that their mood has a heavy impact on how they behave in the bank. So when you enter a branch of any nationalized bank, you should hope and pray that none of the aunties argued with their husbands, none of them argued with their children, none of them heard surprising gossip about themselves, none of them had a fight with the doodhwala, maali or dhobhi, none of the K-serials had a bad twist, before they came to the bank. Because boss, all these factors (and more) can cause doom.

The males aren't any better. While the females are constantly getting annoyed and passing comments, the males just don’t care. Imagine a bank with 3 counters. There is a long line in front of every counter. Ideally, the men behind the counters should be working faster to finish the work in time, but that’s not how it goes.
When the pressure gets too much to handle for our beloved bank employees (males) they simply stretch their hands behind their heads and lean back in their chairs. Or worse, some of the stubborn ones make an excuse about going to the loo and never come back. Some of them start chatting about the match between India and Pakistan, or India’s current economic situation, and other random things like the weather. The line is still standing there, but the men could care less.

When the clock strikes 2, they pack up their counter without a second’s thought, mumble ‘Ab aap kal aana, bank ab band ho chuka hai’, and fuck off. All the folks who needed money urgently or needed to deposit money can go to hell.

So the conclusion, my friends, is the one should never ever visit a nationalized bank. It’s a waste of your time and energy, and not to mention – thousands of brain cells. You’d rather play the space monkey game and lose your brain cells, than banging your heads in these fish markets.

What exams do to you

2010-03-08T18:44:00.001+05:30

15 days ago..

Me: Mom, you wanna for a movie?
Mom: Sure, which one?
Me: Any, just let me know what you wanna watch, and I'll get the ticket.

Now.

Mom: Hey, you wanna watch TV?
Me: No.
Mom: You wanna listen to songs?
Me: No
Mom: You wanna take a walk?
Me: No
Mom: You wanna eat?
Me: No
Mom: Will you say something other than 'No'?
Me: No
Mom: Is something wrong with you?
Me: No
Mom (pissed): Go to hell!
Me: Sure.What's the address?

This is what exams do to you. I'm a robot.

This moment

2010-03-02T18:57:00.001+05:30

This moment is weird. This moment is strange. This moment is scary. This moment is making me nervous. But the truth is, I don’t know how this moment is making me feel, all I know is that I’m feeling different.

This moment cannot be defined,

It’s beautiful, mysterious and scary,

all at the same time.

I should be looking into my English book,

And yet, I’m typing this stupid poem,

Just because this moment is my education’s crook.

I’ve recently discovered that I have a certain passion for psychology. And the signs had begun to blossom some, 6 months back when I started contemplating upon people’s actions and expressions, trying to deduce what they were feeling at that moment. Obviously, I am an epic failure when it comes to deducing, but I can never seem to stop trying. I did hit the bull’s eye a few times, but that’s pretty much about it.

One of the few disorders I’m extremely fascinated by is ‘Multiple Personality Disorder’ or ‘Dissociative Identity Disorder’, more commonly known as MPD or DID. It intrigues me because I’m amazed at how our sub-conscious works. MPD is a much controversial disorder. In fact, a lot of people still believe that this disorder doesn’t exist. I’m in the process of researching on this, and plan to buy as many novels as I can on MPD :)

But, as of now, I’m stuck with my English book. Oh and I’ve also begun to like poetry. As you can see, I’ve churned out quite a few useless pieces over the last few days. Although I must admit, the online thesaurus really comes in handy ;)

We have a chapter called ‘Discovering Tut: The saga continues’ (Reminds you of Twilight, doesn’t it? ‘S-a-g-a’) and quite frankly I don’t see the point in even reading about some dead king, whose cause of death hasn’t been discovered. Isn’t the fact that the students are simply not interested, relevant at all? I, for one, am genuinely not interested. The dude got his fair share of publicity. Leave him alone.

Darn. My mind is back on psychology. I’ve always wondered – what exactly are ‘dreams’ ? How are our dreams related to our reality? What defines what we see in our dreams? Are they a manifestation of our secret desires ? Something our conscious doesn’t know, but something that hides in some corner of our sub-conscious ?

My dreams have always been rather, extreme, for the lack of a better word. They’re either very upbeat and ‘happy’, or they’re very sad or violent. More so, the latter. I can never seem to find the middle ground. This kind of indicates Borderline personality disorder, but the strange thing is that my personality isn’t extreme. Mild factors do not trigger my mood.

Crap, I can go on. My English books seems to be glaring at me with angry eyes. I’ll get back to my research after my exams get over.

Damn I feel fucked.

Fear

2010-02-28T14:37:00.005+05:30

As I lay in my bed last night, I thought of my life ahead. I dreamt of achieving my ambition of becoming the richest person on Earth, I dreamt of starting my own business, I dreamt of cutting through the hurdles of life and reaching the top.

But then, a thought struck me like a bolt of lightning. My finals are coming up, and given the ruthless system of our school, I’m not even sure whether I’ll pass. And then I thought of myself sitting in my room, staring at my report card that had ‘Fail’, printed in bold. I shuddered at the thought and shut my eyes. It’s not the idea of ‘flunking’ per se that scares me, neither is it the idea of facing the social stigma that comes along with flunking, it is actually the thought of spending another two years in school that scares me to death.

For the past few days, I’ve been rejoicing in the fact that this is going to be my last year in school, but what if that never happens? What if I don’t make it?

If this thought can be scary for a person like me, who harbors a nonchalant attitude towards formal education, then I cannot even imagine how fucking freaked out those students might be, for whom this is a matter of life and death. For whom, flunking is not even an option.

Last night, I resolved to bury my nose into my books. A resolution, not invoked by the idea of ‘passing with flying colors’, but by the fear of ‘not being able to make it’.

This is how we are controlled. This is how our mind is manipulated by our system. Their weapon is not ‘education’, their weapon is ‘fear’. Fear is one of the most dangerous human emotions. When you’re scared, you do whatever it takes to secure yourself, and the school authorities are smart enough to play on that emotion. We’ve been getting lectures from our teachers day in and day out since the last two months. Ideally, they’re supposed to make us feel better.

Newsflash – They don’t. They fucking don’t. They freak you out even more.

No one, I repeat, No one, knows what we’re going through at this moment, this second. Not even our parents. The pressure to make it to class 12th, the anxiety of finally going to the class you always thought was faraway, the dread with which we sleep every night, and the nervousness with which we get up each morning. It’s like having your head locked up in a pressure cooker for 1 fucking month.

To the system – If fear is the emotion you play on, then I spit on you. I spit on you because there’s hardly any difference between a rapist and school. A rapist exercises his power to rape you physically, and a school exercises it’s power to rape you mentally. For the past 12 years, we’ve been repeatedly raped during the month of March. And we endure it, and keep enduring until we become used to it. But the fear never goes away. It never goes away.

Fuck school. Fuck the system. Fuck exams. Fuck the teachers. Fuck the principals. Fuck this pressure. Fuck anxiety. Fuck class 12th. And for a moment, imagine you’re in the one place you’ve always wanted to be, one place you’ve always wanted to visit – and in that moment, you’ll find some solace.

This is some poetry that I came up with:

I don't want to flunk, I don't want to fail,
I just want to shut my eyes, and hide myself under a veil,

Last night I dreamt of flying in the sky,
And this morning I woke up, only to find my dream die.
My days are full of nothing but studies,
And I can see my dream laughing at me,
because it knows that it will always be, just one of my dream buddies.

I give an ironic smile and shake my head,
knowing that it's no point dreaming about a dream,
that is nothing more than an imaginary thread.

Poetry

2010-02-24T19:50:00.005+05:30

This has been composed right from the bottom of my heart. I'm sure alot of us share this sentiment. Friends! Join me in my mourning.

Approaching catastrophe:

Finals are on the head,

Dread is brewing, teachers said,
Kill me please, my heart pleads,
But education is a road full of these weeds,

I wish I could shrink and hide,
Write 'I quit' and commit suicide,
But shrinking is not attainable,
And marks are unobtainable,

Hence, my friends, I know this fact is unappealing,
So let's join hands in the process of healing,
because we all share the same feeling -

FUCKED.