Sounds ridiculous?

You have just experienced what a student securing 96.8% marks feels when he loses his seat in a college to another student with 88% marks falling under a reserved category.

The subject of Reservations in Higher Education in India is a vast one, in terms of a historical account. Reservations were introduced during the last decades of the 19th century when there were two forms of governance: British India and the 600 princely states, though it was only with the arrival of Ambedkar that the minorities acquired a leader of stature and education who could also make a political difference, who submitted a memorandum titled, ‘On the Grievances of the Scheduled Castes’. The scheduled castes were allowed 8.5 per cent reservation in central services and other facilities for the first time in the history of India in 1942.

However, on 27 June 1961, the first Prime Minister of India Jawaharlal Nehru expressed his opposition in a letter to the Chief Ministers, with the following words: “If we go in for reservation on communal and caste basis, we swamp the bright and able people and remain second-rate or third-rate. I am grieved to learn how far this business of reservations has gone based on communal considerations. It has amazed me to learn that even promotions are based sometimes on communal or caste considerations. This way lies not only folly but disaster. The moment we encourage the second rate, we are lost. Let us help the backward groups by all means, but never at the cost of efficiency.“

Further, reservation in higher education is violation of Article 26, Para 1 of Universal Declaration of human rights.
Article 26 (1) Everyone has the right to education. Education shall be free, at least in the elementary and fundamental stages. Elementary education shall be compulsory. Technical and professional education shall be made generally available and higher education shall be equally accessible to all on the basis of merit.

Yet, various institutions of the government of India practice affirmative action in different forms, some of which are as follows.

Delhi University
Out of 54000 available seats in Delhi University, due to a 49.5% reservation quota only 27270 seats are available to the general category students. Note that the SC/ST/OBC category students are eligible to openly compete with GEN students if they are in merit; this results in the competition being thrice as tough for GEN students. Also, many GEN meritorious students were unable to get admission even after five cutoff lists, while there were 7 or 8 lists for the reserved categories, because the government prevents conversion of vacant reserved seats into open seats (i.e. seats which remain vacant will NOT be given to more deserving students but continue to be filled up by the reserved categories). Consequently, a large number of meritorious students had to turn to School Of Open Learning as the last resort (but notice how the link cleverly mentions only those who wouldn’t have been able to seek admission in regular colleges anyway!).

Mumbai University
A multi-lingual city like Mumbai has the unique phenomenon of reservations for linguistic minorities in colleges run by various communities. 50% of the seats in colleges run by Gujarati, Sindhi, Tamil and other non-Marathi-speaking managements are reserved for students speaking that language. Such colleges need not reserve seats for OBC/SC/ST students, but have to do so for physically handicapped, members of the defence forces and government employees with transferable jobs, and students excelling in the arts or sports. Added to this is the 5% management quota. Also, unlike Delhi, Stds XI and XII in Mumbai usually constitute the “Junior College” section, which reserve 20% seats for their ownn students. Thus, 50% seats could be reserved for minorities and 38% for other special reservations, leaving only 12% in the open category. This leads us to the unpleasant reality that however meritorious a student, s/he can only aspire to a third of the available seats in the city’s best colleges.

Indian Institute of Technology
Currently, there exists a reservation of 15% for SC and 7.5% for ST candidates. Based on the results of IIT-JEE, those SC/ST candidates that qualify by a relaxed selection criteria of scoring more than about half of the marks scored by the last General Category student are admitted directly to IITs. The seats reserved for SC/ST students are not transferable to General Category.

I am just as grieved as Jawaharlal Nehru to learn how far this business of reservations has gone.

I thought it was agreed that equal opportunities must be given to all citizens irrespective of caste, creed, race and religion? Then why are the meritorious general category students being denied their right to opportunity when they have earned it? Reservations were part of the constitution when it was released in 1950 as a temporary measure and to serve for a limited period – why is this being extended indefinitely? Meritorious students from general category fail to get admission in desired colleges, while people with a much lower percentage are easily able to secure a seat in the best colleges through quotas. Have you heard about the fake caste certificates scam at DU this year? The guilty people were not students with bad marks – a student with 94% attempted to seek admission with a fake certificate, because as long as this student identified as a General Category student, doors were closed. Not that I support such criminal acts, but imagine the student’s disappointment when even a 94% score for a GEN student wasn’t enough to get admission.

Proponents of reservations seem to have these common myths:

Myth No.1: The compensation for centuries of oppression lies in reserving seats in the present for the backward classes.
I am sorry but no it does not. Indian society seems to have adopted the cult of the victim – consequently, we witness a culture of resentment, accusation, anger and demand for historical compensation (for mistakes of the PAST generations by the future generations!?). The concept of justice is reduced to juggling between particular interests while the holders of power begin to divide people as they juggle between competing claims of victimisation. “Positive discrimination” classifies us into the Oppressed and Oppressors, creating an atmosphere of victimhood and mistrust; this is clearly a major hindrance in national integration.

Myth No.2: You don’t oppose other quotas such as Management Quota or quotas for linguistic or religious minorities!
Actually, I absolutely do. Even though these quotas are availed by the General Category for seats, they are still anti meritocracy in nature and I consider them as unfair as reservations based on caste.

Myth No.3: All the people in backward classes have historically been poor, underprivileged and denied basic human rights.
Contrary to the impression laid down by the proponents of reservations, caste has not been an entirely rigid construct in India; OBCs include Yadavs, who were kings 2000 years ago! Jats were rulers, Patils were village headmen, and one can find numerous instances of royal families (such as the Nandas and the Mauryas) who were neither Brahmin nor Kshatriya nor Bania. After the collapse of the Mughal rule, the section of agriculturists Marathas assumed royal power. The Patels of Gujarat, likewise, have come to play a significant role in the world of commerce. Yet none of these neo-Kshatriya and neo-Bania groups will give up their OBC status for the purpose of reservations!

Myth No.4: The creamy layer has been excluded so the benefits reach the poor people of the backward classes.
Though such exclusion may in principle prevent these neo-Kshatriyas and neo-Banias from monopolizing the benefits of reservations, in practice, the creamy layer isn’t really excluded – hiding incomes in India is easier than you think; although the media will conveniently showcase the few genuinely deserving cases that benefit to mask the actual reality of reservations.

The whole debate about Reservations vs No Reservations really comes down to Merit vs Politics. These “affirmative action” policies are nothing less than the same “Divide and Rule” Policy which were adopted by the British – caste divides us for the wrong reasons. Caste based policies are divisive, anti-secular, and anti-progressive. And anyway the focus of the government is no longer on uplifting the real backward people, but to continue the caste system to generate votes! Until this caste factor is eradicated from politics, Indians will continue to be divided into two categories (the forward classes and the backward) in a nation whose resources are being wasted and never reaching the real needy. The aim of this policy was to give SC/ST/OBC equal opportunities because of their social disadvantages and lack of resources and exposure, but is it really benefitting the ones who need it the most? The rich and creamy layer of these former backward castes which benefits the most from this system continues to avail reservation facilities for their progeny which are no longer needed by them.

Do we need talent or reservations to build our country? How can India bloom with the death of merit?

The reservation policy is perhaps the worst thing to have happened to India, because it results in diluting the quality of professionals by denial of seats to deserving students while letting those with lower marks in. And the fact that many of these students are not fit to qualify as competent professionals is clear when they take longer to complete the course – and are some times withdrawn from the course, because there is no relaxation in marks required for qualifying. In fact, quotas are unfair to reserved categories as well – when a student who cannot handle the challenging lifestyle of IIT is admitted through a quota, it becomes extremely hard for him to cope up; instead, joining a college which matches his caliber could’ve been more beneficial. In the end, meritorious students suffer denial of seats and backward class students suffer because even if they are meritorious, the quota tag will always be attached to them wherever they go. Can you see how this is a lose-lose situation?

How do you define “backwardness” anyway? Are castes the only cause of backwardness? What about discrimination based on gender? What about poor people in rural areas who belong to upper castes? What about religious minorities? If one starts reserving seats for all of these, the question arises if this country is only for the backward people! The trouble is that the basis of reservations is not economic status, but the historical background. Which means that a rich and powerful SC/ST “deserves” unreasonable rights but an economically backward GEN student does not! The only way is to categorize people is by making economic condition as the sole criteria for judging whether a particular person is privileged or under privileged, and benefits be made available to them so that they equip themselves to compete with the rest. Instead of offering free seats to reserved categories, the government should reimburse the entire expenses for education to the economically disadvantaged families, ensuring that quality education is made available to deserving children without financial burden for the poor.

All these measures are necessary at the elementary level, but are not acceptable at the professional level. This is NOT helping the backward classes. Haven’t we all heard how they say, “Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day; teach him how to fish and he will eat for a lifetime.” Now the time has arrived which calls to change the prospective of cutoff relaxations in the favour of really needed economic and poor backward classes by implementing the core concept of social welfare and social justice system, instead of castes; although after relaxation they must be encouraged to compete in fair competition with everyone else.

If we all agree that castes must be abolished, just how exactly are reservations helping that? If anything, they generate resentment, apathy and jealousy between caste and caste; the logic “Use caste to achieve a colorblind society,” is an assault on common sense.

Many of my old friends constantly ask me, “Where on earth ARE you?!” Evidently, it’s not just writing, I’ve been out of touch with a lot of people as well since a while.

I have odd timings of coming online because of my sleeping patterns and classes scheduled throughout the day, which explains why I always appear to be “busy” during the daytime. And as for the writing part, I seem to suffer from a chronic writers block because I keep abandoning my half-written posts. Also, I’ve been upset about some things, but let’s not go into that (I plan to write about it in another post but it’s presently uncertain as to whether or not I would ever complete writing it).

So after my last post, I made my way into my hometown Delhi, feeling fairly proud of myself for my small achievements, and expecting my life to somehow turn around.

The first one month here was amazing; I met almost all my maternal relatives and cousins (many of whom I had never even heard about) for the first time since childhood; I experienced what it’s like to live in an Indian joint family. The reason it’s a lot of fun is because there are so many people with drastically different mindsets and age groups; and while this makes it very difficult to get along with each other, they still manage to stick together for years and decades, because they consider each other family.
And and, my grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary!

Life in Delhi was equally new for me, after those 4 years in Jungle-pur. I went around the city, memorising various routes and short cuts, learned how to travel using public transport (yes I had never previously used any), admired the Delhi Metro Rail Corporation everyday (lol), learned how to settle a reasonable price with the unreasonable autowallas (some of them are outrageous!), saw the beautiful night view of the city while driving on a flyover, got used to the constant traffic jams and following traffic rules on the roads, climbed the wrong flyovers a few times and learned how to find my way back (it’s the worst thing which can happen to anyone!), observed how people dressed and behaved around me (very different from Jungle-pur indeed), fell in love with Delhi University North Campus, went on a shopping spree, met a few old friends, visited India Gate at midnight, ate at KFC and McD countless times (I hadn’t seen any of those for 4 years!), saw the final Harry Potter movie at a theatre (in ENGLISH, thank god; every movie was dubbed in Hindi in Jungle-pur), and a hell lot of other things.

The first disappointment came with the cut-off lists of DU. Everyone who was in touch with me had to listen to my long rants about the outrageous cut-off percentages, and the reason why the seats were filling up without needing to lower the cut-off (reservations). After “five” lists, I was still getting admission nowhere in the whole North Campus for the course I wanted, or any other desired colleges either.

The next disappointment came disguised with my Chartered Accountancy entrance test result – I had cleared it, which meant I was supposed to go into correspondence for my graduation if I wanted to continue with CA. Which meant that taking admission into any college I was getting (i.e. one of the colleges I did not even want) just for the sake of my graduation would technically be a complete waste of time.

The final disappointment was when I got my Chartered Accountancy textbooks home and registered for my coaching classes – the syllabus is so overwhelmingly vast that I understood I would have to cope up with many hours of classes and many more hours of self study if I wanted to clear the exams, without going to college or just chilling out like my other classmates were already doing.

So, yeah my life turned around – but in a completely opposite way than I had planned. Suddenly I had no time for all those things I had fallen in love with. I did not even have any friends here, because people in my classes are, well, caught up with studies and hardly want to make any new friends; and I don’t go anywhere else where I could meet people. And I don’t even have my parents here to take me around in my beloved Indica!

Living without my parents has taught me how to take care of myself, my belongings and various situations which I had always ignored. When you live without your parents, there’s hardly anything you can ignore – not even a Rs. 3.14 raise in petrol price! – because everything is now your own responsibility. And well I have always been exceptionally bad at responsibilities.
It’s not just about managing things anyway, it’s this whole stress that’s constantly at the back of my mind – how I need to get my phone recharged and my Debit Card re-activated and renew my Gym membership and go to my coaching centre and submit my remaining fees and find an Audit batch and register for it and so many other things.

And that’s why I either have no time to write or get in touch with people, or I’m so tired and bored with life that I’m in no mood to do so. I figured that I’m getting too stressed with everything and I probably need a small break (which means I want my Dad to come here and take care of everything just for two weeks! Lol).

So since a few days I’ve been bunking my classes and just chilling at home. I’ve been playing World of Warcraft all day (God it’s addictive!), watching Lie to Me and Family Guy, abandoning posts on this blog halfway (I really hope I do end up posting this), drinking beverages, sitting with my Taxation book while talking on the phone for hours, sleeping at 4 a.m and waking up at 12, going on a Facebook Status Updating spree and being all over everyone’s News Feeds, searching random thoughts on Google, eating like a horse, and just ignoring all thoughts about pending things. Oh and did I mention that I created a page featuring myself on Facebook? (No, I’m not a narcissist, I just wanted to see how many Likes I would get, honest!)

And that’s the story so far.

And.. for the lack of a witty last line,
Cheers!

Two years, I told myself, it’s just a matter of two years…
Little did I know, this city wasn’t willing to let go of me that soon.

Four years later, I ride my scooty through the greenery of the Central Ordnance Depot of Jabalpur – or as I call it, The Jungle-pur. I look at the tall trees gently swaying in the wind, as I always do. I look at the birds, at a baby monkey clinging to its mother (the place where I live is full of monkeys and other animals), at small children playing in the park, at squirrels trying to cross the road – the usual stuff. But somehow, everything seems different today…

It’s as if the trees have sprung to life, and are sad to see me go.

I feel something I never really thought about; that the broken roads, the half painted houses, small shops by the road, plants and trees everywhere, the lack of traffic rules (or any other rules, for that matter), the peculiar language – these small things about this city, the same things I hated so much, actually had a way of making me feel at peace, as if it was home.

Jungle-pur may not have tall buildings, but it has people with big hearts. It’s a small city, but then small cities are always full of love – and the best part about them is that you’re always running into someone you know, and you’re gettting to know everyone you run into

It’s a place where people are a little old fashioned and yet broad minded, a little conservative and yet open to new things. It has people of all kinds, the rebels and the idealists, the carefree and the ambitious, the sensitive and the strong – but what they all have in common, is their ability to love each other with all their hearts. It’s a place where if someone fails an exam, he would still celebrate because his friend has passed!

As much as I tried to avoid following the particular “Jabalpuri” attitude and style of speaking (with certain common phrases used which I’ll never hear anywhere else), four years down the line I think I’ve become as much a “Jabalpuri” as those who have lived here all their lives. The day I became comfortable with the idea of completely covering my face with a scarf while outside on the road (a common practice here for girls), I knew I had accepted the ways of this city as my own.

It seems like I’ve been here for a lifetime, and yet have never truly appreciated what this small city had given me – independence, some great friends, and so much of love. It is the most welcoming city I’ve ever been to, the kind of place where you can feel at home almost instantly.

I walk through the markets, feeling the cool breeze brush through my hair, looking at the road filled with a large number of two wheelers (and no one wearing a helmet, haha), listening to the typical conversations of people, seeing guys with their “sisters” (it’s almost like a tradition here – girls turn all their male friends into their “brothers” right from the beginning), students walking around with their ‘coaching’ bags, a large crowd gathered at the panipuri stalls… In its own ways, this city is beautiful.

Everything seems to move in slow motion, just like that afternoon – and I feel that some part of me does belong here, and always would.

And it seems that, in my very last moments here,
I’m falling in love with Jungle-pur. <3

Sometimes, an achievement can just mean trying out something you’ve always been afraid of. Or making a study schedule for yourself and actually following it. Or keeping calm and cool when someone is trying extremely hard to get on your nerves. Or sometimes it can just mean reaching somewhere on time! (And well I’ve never yet been able to achieve THAT )

So anyway. Here’s a list of some small and some big things which I consider major achievements ever since I turned 18!

#Cooking 
From someone who could never stand in the kitchen for more than 1.45 seconds, I’ve now become someone who can spend ages there experimenting with spices, and actually enjoying the experience. 5 or 6 things learned properly, and still counting.

#Driving
This one is huge! I say huge because Tata Indica DLX [diesel version] is one big car which is pretty difficult to manage. Nevertheless, after a lot of embarrassing and frustrating moments with it in the middle of the road, I can now manage to drive in some of the most crowded areas of this city.

#Understanding the car gearing system
Yes, I want to include this separately. For probably a whole month since I began learning, the gear system baffled me completely. I couldn’t understand where my Dad was getting the divine knowledge of when to change to what gear. Now that I understand it, it feels pretty stupid that it was so confusing earlier. But then it’s okay to be a slow learner sometimes

#Getting 1,090 Comments on a status, and 80 Likes on another
Haha, facebook makes me feel a little more loved every day

#The Newspaper Articles
A picture of me with a write-up saying that I scored a 92% in class 12, and another article about me was published in two separate newspapers. It’s not the fact that I just appeared in the newspapers, but the fact that I was acknowledged to be worthy of appearing in them, that I consider the real achievement.

#Taking an Interview
I haven’t admitted this to many people, but the idea of approaching a person and questioning them for details relating to a story, is pretty frightening to me. But then I also have this thing in me to always try out what I’m afraid of. And so, when Youth Journalism International offered me the opportunity of learning how to take interviews, I took the dive and took two of them. And ignoring all modesty, I think I did a great job at it

#The 91 in Maths
No, the real achievement was the fact that I deactivated my facebook account for 6 whole days, switched my mobile off, and studied as long as 12 hours a day for maths sometimes. I could never imagine that I’d ever do something like this for an exam! And though I couldn’t get the 100 which I was so obsessed about, I think 91 isn’t bad at all

#Playing the Guitar again
After around 2 years of completely abandoning it, I joined the classes and started playing it again. Which means that I stopped being dull, unenthusiastic, disinterested and lazy every time I looked at my guitar!

#Being Happy when Others Succeed
I never had issues with others succeeding, but since a couple of months I’ve started to feel a very genuine and enthusiastic happiness when I see my friends and colleagues achieving something. Instead of threatening me, they make me proud, and sometimes motivate me. And when you can truly appreciate other people’s success, you know you’ve achieved something within yourself

#The 97 in Business Studies
This is a real achievement, because I didn’t even study that much for this. Due to lack of information I’m not sure yet if this is the highest score in the subject, but as of now I haven’t come across anyone who scored more than this. The 95 in Accounts was still a bit of hard work, but this didn’t take that much of effort!

#Making New Friends in Real Life
It’s easy to send a friend request on facebook and becoming friends with someone, but it was terrifying for me to do that off the internet. I heard this from many people that from behind my laptop, I had a whole different personality from what I exhibited in real life. So gradually I’ve developed a more extroverted approach towards people, and I knew I succeeded after I made almost 8 new friends at my coaching institute by myself

#Writing this post
Just for the record, every time I actually finish a post at this blog instead of leaving it half way, it’s an achievement.

Whew, it seems like I’ve been doing a lot of stuff lately. This will now be followed by entrance tests, college applications, cutoff lists, irrational fear [like "What if I don't get admission anywhere?!!"], train journeys, being exhausted, hostel life, and on and on. And if I live through that, I suppose I could add one more achievement to this list

And so, in my own ways, I celebrate these small successes, and know that more will follow. ^_^

She’s a living miracle, she’s the master of every task
“How does she manage it all?” is what everyone wants to ask
She’s young at heart and looks like she’s just twenty-three,
Kya yaar, she always gets more attention than me!

She can manage the kitchen and the dance performances
And the synthesiser and Hotel Management and the Ladies Meets
And the Reiki and the Pendulum and her Facebook Profile
Talking about the things she does, I can fill many sheets!

She can love me the same even if we have a huge fight,
And if I’m not able to sleep she can stay up with me all night,
She can be totally exhausted and still cook french fries,
But the only thing she can’t stand, is tears in my eyes.

She would give up every important task [including FB now],
Just to hug me and ask me what happened, where and how -
And come up with 50 solutions while analysing every part;
The way her world revolves around me touches my heart.

A single word against me, she wouldn’t let anyone say
Koi unke saamne mujhe kuch bolke to dekhe!
The tiger inside awakens – “Meri beti ko kya bola?!” and so on,
Sometimes I feel I’m the daughter of the world’s biggest Don.

Her greatest fear is seeing me upset – worse than me she’d feel
And her greatest joy is when I finish a proper meal.
The only thing she wants from me is regular supply of Green Tea,
Wait, no – she wants that Diamond Set from my future salary!

She has a heart of gold – but an equally bad temper,
And she treats every person exactly in the way they treat her,
I happen to be the one and only exception to this rule -
She can never be angry at me for too long, no matter what I do.

So that describes briefly the lady I call my Mom,
She’s the one where so much of my happiness comes from,
And if you wonder, what is then my inspiration source?
Then that has to be my Dad, of course

From Accountancy to Geography to History to Physics,
And Economics to Chemistry to the dreadful Mathematics,
Although he has never been to a proper college,
There exists no subject which has managed to escape his knowledge.

If I’d come after a bad day looking like a complete mess,
He’d hug me and make me feel like a Princess,
If I’d say I lost my mobile and wallet n I’ve no idea where they are,
He’d say “Hahaha! So how are we celebrating, Rockstar?”

From 2 + 2 = 4 to complicated questions of Integration,
He’s been the most excellent teacher in the nation,
His ways of explanations are the best without a doubt,
But his incredible patience makes *mine* run out!

To make me and mom happy, he’d go out of his ways,
To the extent that we have to ask him to stop instead of praise,
But do not be fooled – when he’s angry these traits do not apply,
Koi road pe galat drive karte hue unko dikh to jaye!

His ideas and theories can fill many books and volumes,
He doesn’t stop talking unless the listening person is in fumes,
His sharp observation skills make him a perfectionist,
If it wasn’t for him, half of this blog would not exist!

He treasures every moment with me, for someday I’ll be gone,
He still vividly remembers the night I was born,
He always falls asleep when I play with his hair; And guys -
I’m the only one who can bring tears to his eyes.

There is just so much I want to write, words fall short,
They deserve a lot more joy than they have ever got,
For when they give, they give with all their heart
While never expecting returns – isn’t that the best part?

I cannot put in words how amazing it is,
To be born to the two most fantastic people that exist;
And these few lines are my way of telling both of you,
How deeply I appreciate every little thing you do.

That’s one of the reasons why I’ve always avoided going to a beauty parlour, the primary one being that I could never care less. But apparently and unfortunately, being above 17 and not caring could lead to a lot of ridicule, as I found out on the awful Teacher’s Day celebration in my school. So to avoid re-experiencing that I decided to visit the parlour before my farewell and my 18th birthday after all.

I enter inside and the receptionist looks at me from head to toe while I wonder if I’m looking like crap. My mother and the receptionist begin discussing about the long number of things that I need to get done, and of course I don’t want to look stupid so I keep agreeing. After she prepares a bill which crosses a thousand bucks, I’m told to sit down by a very sweet stylist so she can start with the list of things.

The eyebrows. I was getting this done for the second time in 4 months and so I tell myself repeatedly that I’m going to make it through this. The stylist smiles at me and I relax and close my eyes, five minutes after which my right eyebrow is subjected to that horrible thread which makes me open my eyes wide and whine. The sweet stylist suddenly looks menacing and tells me to stay still. I act like I’m totally fine and somehow tolerate those 15 minutes of terror and pain.

The upper lip. Ok, after that eyebrow terror, how bad could this be? I tilt my head and close my eyes again, telling myself that it’s going to be over in a matter of 10 minutes and I’m a strong lady…
I experience sharp pain on the right side of my upper lip and start whining. The pain gets worse. And worse. After 45 seconds my eyes are blood red and streaming with tears while the stylist looks amused and says this is the first time she’s seeing someone behave like this. I look at her and hope her sandal heel breaks in the middle of the road.

The Haircut. It’s the only thing I like because there’s no pain involved – but apparently the day was meant to get worse and I find almost 80 strands of my hair falling off my head, after which she mercilessly combed through it causing more of my hair to part with me. I was telling her not to cut off more than an inch but when she’s done she’s almost cut off more than 5 inches. Now that was painful…

The Face Clean-up. Or something. I don’t know what exactly it was called. The stylists lead me inside and shove at me a long tie up thing to wear. I look at them in confusion wondering why I need to change for a *face* clean up, and they stare at me saying “Are you coming here for the first time or something?!” Of course I don’t say yes and act like I knew all about the procedure and change into that.. that thing. I come out and there are all these beds everywhere and strange things are happening. This is the Torture Chamber.

They lead me to a bed and I lie down when suddenly one of the stylists rubs some fluid all over my face and my eyes. I start panicking that it would go into my eyes and start pulling my face away. She rubs some more fluids while asking me if there was any problem. I don’t let her know that I’m dying of panic inside. She rubs another fluid on my face and it goes into my eyes. I control my urge to scream out “My eyes! Oh my God I’m blind!” I’m asked to go into another room and lie down on another bed, where she very painfully rubs something on my cheekbones and my eye sockets. She keeps talking to me very sweetly though. Killing me softly….

I’m lying down with my eyes tightly shut with some cotton over them when she applies something on my face which makes it burn. I mean it feels as if my cheeks are on fire. She does something on my nose with a sharp object which makes me whine and whine. She laughs and says to someone “Oh look at this kid she’s almost crying already!” I hope she finds cockroaches in her dinner tonight.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour, fifty minutes, the goddamned thing just wouldn’t come to an end. My patience is running out and my headache is getting worse and my eyes are burning. Why on earth did I ever agree to do this? I try to solve a differential equation in my mind to kill time but my headache does not permit that. I try to draft a poem in my mind and come up with “Twinkle twinkle little star, I’ve been getting pissed off so far, Up above the world so high, if this doesn’t end I’m going to die!” I curse myself for the crap I came up with and try to encourage myself. I’m a strong, patient, very patient, extremely patient lady who has a lot of patience and whose patience never runs out…

After what seems like 7 hours someone finally attends to me and gets everything off my face. The stylist suddenly asks me with horror, “Beta why on earth aren’t you getting waxing done?!” I control my urge to scream out “Because I can’t stand that horrible painful experience!” and say “Of course I’ll do it, but at home.”
Of course I don’t do it because I’m a chicken who chickened out.

The hair straightening. Feeling completely exhausted after 2 hours of that face clean up thing, I’m led to a chair where my hair is to get ironed. I’m irritable and hungry and my face is still burning and my head is spinning. The stylist is doing this so SLOWLY. Plus I look at the length of my hair which has been reduced to half and it’s painful. I look at my watch and realise how long I’ve been here and give her dangerous looks seeing which she tries to hurry up.

The pains of growing up – if you don’t care about how you look, you’re tortured by low self esteem and people who do not take you seriously; if you care about how you look, you’re subjected to the torture chamber!
The irony, the irony…

And when I finally get up and look into the mirror, I understood why I agreed to do this, and felt glad that I did. Although it was a terrible experience, the torture chamber was absolutely worth the pain!

Recently my grandparents had come over to visit us, and they wanted to see one particular Hanuman Mandir. I was totally fine with that – I would go inside, stand in silence for a while, close my eyes and join in prayer if I feel like it, and come out – no problem!

What Happened
So I’m given a packet of prasaad and a Rs.10 note to donate inside. We remove our shoes and walk inside. My Grandma tells me the stories associated with each God we could see there, my Grandpa takes pictures of the temple, and I stand with the packet in my hand wondering what to do with it. Slowly the temple begins to fill with mostly old people, with only one guy around my age. My Mom pushes me right in front of the statues and tells me that I’m supposed to give that packet to the panditji when he comes.

An old and slightly angry looking man arrives and begins to chant. I hear a loud ringing of the temple bell and my head starts to hurt. Everyone seems to be waiting patiently while the man (who is certainly the awaited panditji) walks round the statues while ringing that loud bell. After almost 10 minutes of this he kneels down in front of the statues and touches his forehead on the ground, and everyone behind me follows suit except me. By the time I quickly try to kneel, everyone is back up on their feet. I’m already starting to feel embarrassed now, when the panditji gets up and starts chanting something which makes my Grandma very happy – and leaves me confused. This sounds like Hanuman Chalisa, why did this begin immediately on our arrival? I figure out that we all had apparently entered the temple when the daily ritual of aarti was scheduled. This is a little unsettling…

This is not what I came prepared for. I never spend more than 10 minutes in a temple! I try to escape but I’m standing right in front of the statues and there are all these people behind me singing together. I look around and notice two things: that my Grandma is singing along and enjoying herself, and that the guy of my age has mysteriously disappeared (very smart guy, got out before it was late). Everyone starts clapping and singing louder. Every minute feels like three hours while the shrill noise of the bells and chants makes my head spin.

I notice a butterfly stuck on the donation box, trying to escape. I’m amazed at how accurately it was describing my own situation. I notice a really scary looking bug crawling on the floor. I wonder if it’s head hurts as much as mine does. It has weird eyes and seems to be staring at me. I look away and wonder if there was any point studying Sanskrit for 5 years, for I wasn’t understanding a word of the chant. I imagine the look on the panditji’s face if the song Sheila Ki Jawani suddenly goes off in someone’s mobile in the middle of this! I quickly push the thought away from my mind. I ignore some old women glaring at me because I seem to be lost, neither singing nor clapping. I hear a line that goes like,

“Bhoot pishaach koi nikat na aave…”

An image of Ram Gopal Verma’s movie Bhoot suddenly flashes through my mind and I fail in my attempts at controlling my laughter. The panditji opens his eyes really wide and glares at me. That scares the life out of me and I apologetically turn to the floor. I realise I need to stop laughing and inviting trouble. I try to participate in the song but I cannot understand what to say. I tell myself to focus on the bug. Focus on the bug… the weird eyes of the bug… the way the bug was staring… no, it’s not funny.. do NOT laugh…

I try to ask myself questions which would divert me. Why does everyone clap the entire time during this? Is this the story of Hanuman? Why are they chanting his story, if it is? Why are there all these strange rules people follow in temples? Why do people feel that you can only wish for something in a temple, whereas you can do it anywhere and anytime? Why is everyone staring at me? Why don’t I stop laughing? This is turning into a disaster.

After what seems like an eternity, the song/chant comes to an end – though the panditji apparently tried very hard to keep continuing it by repeating “Narmade Har” almost 7 times. Everyone kneels down and touches their forehead to the ground while I go back to observing the butterfly (I’m about to escape but you aren’t, ha!). People start walking away from the statue… but wait, why are they not going towards the exit?
Oh no, they are kneeling in front of another statue now and repeating the entire singing procedure, while I’m left standing there looking confused.

I can take no more of this! I want them to stop now! But no, now they walk to ANOTHER statue. They sing (oh not again) and they kneel down (no no no) and they touch their foreheads to the ground (it’s been almost 40 minutes, you have to stop now!) and they stare at me (yeah that’s all right, I’m used to it now). Now the whole group starts walking round the statues. Finally something fun! This is like “Ring-a-ring-a-roses”! I go round and round the statues with everyone.

And as we leave, I feel drained. I am happy to see my grandparents happy and refreshed, but I feel a little upset somehow – I was made to participate in something I absolutely do not believe in.

And that’s why I don’t visit temples.
They leave me feeling drained, empty and as if I went against my own beliefs, for a long time afterward.

Some people of my school really amuse me. They’re the most perfect examples of what my Dad calls “Fair Weather Friends”. They’re your best friends when things are going good, but the moment you screw up they disappear faster than Rajnikaanth! When I was going through a really bad phase, almost none of my classmates would let themselves be seen with me even if you paid them a thousand bucks; but after I top the commerce stream in my school in the first pre-board I suddenly become the person everyone wants to be with! *curses*

After 5 years of surviving only on junk food and never touching “real” food (or eating it in extremely minimal quantities), I’m now starting to change my diet into a “normal” one – my parents can hardly believe their eyes. My habit of procrastination is getting worse every minute and I wonder how on earth I would live up to the high academic expectations everyone has from me. I’m eating Ferrero Rochers one after the other because I have nothing better to do.

I’m always seen with a navy blue muffler around my neck at school since winters began, it’s like my identification mark. It’s funny how people don’t believe me when I tell them I haven’t studied for my exams, I can’t help laughing in such situations and offending people. I hate wearing my specs, they make me look 10 years older. I have a digital watch which is really cool. I’m scared of this spider crawling towards me on my bed.

My grandparents have come over to visit us, and it’s fun having them around – I hear all kinds of arguments and conversations in the next room and it’s so much better than the Absolute Silence which prevails in this area all the time. Plus they’re cool people, they let me have a glass of whisky very couple of days, ha ha! I hate winters. I like panipuri. I love chicken!

I’ve been experimenting with my examinations more than ever this year. I deliberately decide not to touch my textbooks at all and see if I still am able to score above 60 – and I seem to always succeed! Except the godforsaken subject called Mathematics, for which I studied for 4 entire days and still managed just a 55. Although the real reason for this experiment stuff is that I’m just too lazy to get off facebook and concentrate on a textbook. One day I thought I’ll finally stop procrastinating and studied one whole book of Business Studies and Economics each in one day, doing which resulted in a terrible headache which lasted for 3 days and in the fact that the power of my spectacles has increased. Which proves that I’m better off if I don’t strain myself at all

This is weird, thinking random stuff isn’t coming naturally to me anymore. Anyway it’s been over 20 minutes since nothing has come to my mind, so I’ll end this here. Maybe this is the last post of its kind! Time will tell. Till then, cheers!

I’ve spent most of the nights of 31st December seeing other people celebrating and wishing each other a very happy new year, and have done the same without feeling much excitement or pretty much any good feeling. At midnight I would think of a series of events which went wrong in the year, and at 5 minutes past midnight I would tell myself that a “new year” doesn’t really change anything.

Why should a calendar date determine when one should consciously bring about some kind of a change in their behaviour or attitude? It does sound fun to decide to put certain things behind as a year ends, but why wait till the end of december to do that?

I think the right time to make a new resolution is right now! Every day is an opportunity to change your life. Every moment is a chance to have a new beginning, to let go of the things you don’t like, and to welcome the things you want. Forget the memories which upset you, forgive the people you’re holding a grudge against, change the beliefs which no longer serve you. Let some people walk out of your life so that new ones can walk in. Make room for better experiences by releasing the bad ones from your mind. Create the life you want by choosing to change what you don’t like about yourself now!

Don’t wait till your birthday or the first day of a new year. The time to have a new beginning is right now.

My temporarily intense hatred towards schooling perhaps began when I moved to this city during 2007, arising from the fact that my friends from other cities had an apparently much better school life than I had here. Plus, I’ve always hated more-than-necessary discipline, which is precisely what our school is best known for. As much as I understand how important it is to have a clearly defined set of rules for any institution to function properly, some of the basic rules of school life just make no sense. For example, I’m yet to find a way in which making two braids and tying ribbons in them helps a student’s personality or educational development!

But those are minor things and don’t really mean that much, because my problem with school has a lot to do with my own experiences as a student, which were very frustrating at that time but now sound amusing.

September 2007: I walk into an assembly ground where people seem to be behaving almost mechanically. I can’t bear the whole atmosphere of the place. I stand in my respective line of students wearing a hair band like I used to in my previous school. As the morning prayer gets over, I feel my hair being sharply pulled from behind, and the sports teacher telling me that I better stop breaking the rules around here. I’m scared, angry and frustrated.

April 2008: My section is changed and I’m put in a class where everyone has their own groups, none of which is really open to accepting new members like me. So I spend a couple of months doing nothing much other than minding my own business and feeling extremely angry at the fact that I’m not in my previous school where people have at least more freedom than this place.

August 2008: I am rejected by the music teacher twice for participating in an instrumental competition.

November 2009: I participate in an interschool debate where I forget what I was saying every few seconds and make a complete fool out of myself.

February 2010: So now we’re students of 11th, excited about preparing performances for the farewell of our senior batch, and the school authorities announce that there’s going to be no programme! On our requests they finally agree, on the conditions that we are to remain in uniform, there would be no dances and the programme would be over within school timings. My instrumental piece is cut out at the last moment and the overall programme is worse than we expected. I see the pictures of my friends from other schools who actually had a good time while we spent the day feeling frustrated about our school.

April 2010: It’s annual day and I play the role of an oppressed village woman wearing a saree which absolutely does not suit me and makes me look terrible, which makes people make fun of me while my self confidence goes lower and lower.

September 2010: It’s teacher’s day, something I had been so excited about since many years, which turns out to be the exact opposite of how I would’ve imagined it. I wanted to be the accountancy teacher but some of my classmates put in their own names instead of ours, and I hated the traditional suit I was wearing. I spend most of the day sitting joblessly alone in my classroom being careful not to appear in photographs, and go home feeling extremely jealous of everyone who enjoyed the day.

As if incidents weren’t enough, the people of my school make things much worse. I’m surrounded by some really outrageous people who apparently have nothing better to do than going to any extents to make my life miserable.

But it’s amusing. As my days left in school life are close to coming to an end, it’s as if those experiences don’t really matter anymore. I haven’t exactly had very memorable times during my school life, but nevertheless, I can never say I wouldn’t miss bunking classes or my navy blue uniform or breaking rules or my red ribbons!

So I was wrong. Though the words which come to my mind for the people I met here are “Good Riddance”, I *AM* going to miss school after all.