Chicks, Academics

It's the best thing that you ever had, the best thing that you ever, ever had.

It's the best thing that you ever had, the best thing you had has gone away.

I never thought I'd be in this place at this time. I'm able to look back happily at what was, let those words soak in and feel genuinely thankful that it all played out the way it did. No regrets, no second thoughts, just a willingness take my life forward and be the best me I can be.

Another one of these watersheds will arrive in a day short of one month from today and that hurt a lot more than this ever, ever could. But I survived that too and I look back upon that day as the dark before a pretty incredible dawn. It still bites at me on occasion, it's meant to. But it pushed me into a corner, it made me ask myself some difficult questions and, ultimately, it made me put my heart and soul into one of the toughest challenges of my life.

That I got through that, of course, was due in large part to the best thing that I ever, ever had. And so the whole thing comes a full circle.

Full Circle

"She couldn't even remember what he'd looked like the first time he'd said her name out loud. She couldn't remember their first phone call. Neither could he. 


Yet, as she looked at him, emerge from the crowd that had gathered around the food stalls in a not-so-crowded concert, she knew she'd say it out loud. To him. To anyone he wanted her to say it to. It was the knowledge that he would never ask her to do such a thing , made her want to say it even more.


Yes, a story like this can only find culmination in your imagination. This could be its pinnacle, or even be near its end.You can never tell with these 'Strawberry Fields' tales.
 
They are just as mis-shapen and unhinged as the song is. What were the Beatles thinking."


In December 2006, I had the honour of having this written for me. In response, I wrote this. To which, someone had said, "haha...you kids are so easy to understand :)" and "mumble grumble" respectively. 


Even at a distance of four plus years, I can remember almost everything that happened during that wonderful November week - I learned to love back, I finally learned to love being a college student and I set the groundwork for a deeply personal, highly irregular and --at least to those we know-- an utterly inexplicable friendship. 


If any of the three of us was to say the 'it' she spoke of in December 2006 to either of the other two, I'm pretty sure much hilarity would ensue. Indeed, our lives since that November week have diverged almost to vanishing point. Yet, thanks to that one week, we know each other much, much better than many people we're surrounded by now. 


Thanks, you two. I wouldn't have been the same without you. :)   

Eeayiulh!

Congratulations, Varun Rajiv. I think there's a lot to be said for the "bide your time" approach to recruitment at National Law School. :)

Where Real Life and Dreams Collide

I just completed the arduous task of narrowing down and uploading my collection of phone photos from my last term at law school into a reasonably viewer-friendly package of forty-nine photos. It made me realise that despite not going out of town, not talking to too many people and not doing too many things, there is so much I will always treasure about that last term.

For those three months, there was no pressure, no expectation and, usually, no work. I remember a senior of mine telling me sometime in the last three months of first year to live it up because there would never again come such a time for being carefree. If I was in that senior's place now, I'd say the same thing about 5,15.

I have, like most people, been silently drawing up a list of things I would love to do in life, for pretty much as far back as I can remember. One of those came true this June in South Africa. The list runs beyond that, though. Watching Wrestlemania live is definitely on that list. As is making it to May 31, 2013. :)

But I'm starting to realise that equally precious is the list of things I wish I could do again. And right on top of that list right now would be rewinding to March 18, 2010 and pressing 'play'.

As I'm Leaving

For the record, I hate the David Gray song. But as I'm leaving, I think of the unity and the bickering, the frenzy and the calm, the big hits and the near misses, the wonderful people and the more wonderful people.

Indeed, one big thing I've learnt from college is that people respond to be trusted, that an arm over the shoulder to literally anyone, putting them at the centre of the conversation, leads to some excellent results and, perhaps more importantly, some unforgettable friendships.

The other big thing (and this, I suspect, is going to be what I miss the most about law school) is that it never ceases to amaze me how each and every person has a remarkable story to tell. Over five years, I've been absolutely amazed by the kinds of people who I've met here, what motivates them, things they've done and, in some cases, things they plan to do in the future.

My own future is as full of dark alleys and nameless streets as it was when I first came here but there's enough I've picked up over five years that makes me confident that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Even if there isn't, I'm sure I won't run short on the perseverance to keep trying.

Lastly, to my dear Wujh, I don't know with what intention we were made to get to know each other, but I'm thankful beyond belief that we were. Twenty-six months finally came to the perfect conclusion last night and much like that day, when you got me not to care that there was a Ferrari one-two, last night you got me not to care that Lukas Podolski missed that penalty. There will always be places, times and feelings I'll inextricably associate with you and that, quite simply, is what memories are all about. And memories make the world go round.   

5YP + 14

I wonder why the students of the fifth year don't win Univ Weeks more often. Time, enthusiasm, know-how and a lack of trepidation all weigh most heavily in favour of the senior-most class.

I'd forgotten what it felt like to be in acad post-12 a.m. I shifted my study base to hostel before this 3 a.m. exam perm business started and honestly, my only memories of post-12 a.m. acad have been in Univ Weeks past and during that infamous dekhte-hain-VC-kya-karega sit-in during second year.

There are few sights in law school (or anywhere, for that matter) more beautiful than watching the sun rise in the morning. As acute as the feeling of having slept in way too often for five years is, even more pronounced is the feeling that these days I'm living right now will never, ever come back.

As much as it has done its best to ruin Univ Week, I'm going to miss the rain in Bangalore and how natural a corrective reaction it seems to be to the slightest warm spell.

A really close friend of mine recently told me how proud she was of me for having survived my rather rough initiation to law school and it got me thinking about how, despite that, of all the things I'd wanted at the end of five years here, unless fate or Exam Department intervenes, I'm ending up with none. But truth be told, if I had a sixth year in law school, I wouldn't mind at all, actually. And that's something I never thought I'd say. 

Of Hot Pants, Ke$ha and Breaking Hiatuses

"Univ Week is the only time in the year when law school behaves like a normal college."

And it makes you fall in love with it. Every single time. :)

Slime Time

It's law school election season again. And the ridiculousness of this charade is more apparent this year than perhaps any year previously. Personally, I'm just glad that, compared with whatever attenuated capacity I have been involved in the past, there is absolutely no compulsion on or interference with my normal life this time around. I suspect that's why it strikes me as being more of a charade this year. There's an ugly sense of self-importance that accompanies every election and, last year in particular, the disguising of personal ambition behind perhaps the most superficially socialist election agendas was, from my openly biased perspective, really pathetic.

My reasons for voting for who I did in the last four years (and only once, in first year, did I get both right and only one other time, last year, did I get even one right) were simple: the President and Vice-President of the National Law School's student body can't really do anything. Indeed, to my mind, if the office holders can do so much as to make sure all Committees work well and achieve success, that'll honestly be their best achievement. (Every year, I've been told that I'm wrong and that there is scope for doing a lot more in office, so if you disagree, I've heard it before and I'm not saying you're wrong.) However, in the exceedingly exceptional circumstance that the office bearers have the opportunity to do something that affects my life directly or if I need to employ their services/goodwill in case of an entanglement with the powers that be, I'd like them to be friends of mine or, in cases where this is impossible, reasonably intelligent people I feel comfortable speaking to freely.

As narrow-minded as I've been (and demonstrated above) about elections, I can't help thinking that half the fun with elections is in recognising or legitimising real characters in law school. Unfortunately, if my sources of goss are correct (and they usually are), I don't see too many characters standing for elections. And that's a shame. 

 

Thread, Dragged, Lives, Red, Our, Across

I've been weighing up social choices for a while now and I think I've managed to articulate the conclusion that has been nagging me all this time. I know it sounds incredibly aspirational, but I simply cannot stand being around people who have no obvious talents or knowledge.

Which is why a lot of what has happened over the last month or so suddenly starts to make sense. A complete social recasting is now due. And it starts in late June. After what promises to be eight weeks of absolute madness: the end of five years at law school, followed by South Africa.

"Are you feeling what I'm feeling, King?"

I'm shivering with anticipation for Wrestlemania 26. Really, really shivering.

There's a great six match undercard (including a mouthwatering 10 man Money in the Bank featuring, inter alia, Shelton Benjamin, Kane, Kofi Kingston and my man Christian), a Divas match isn't one of them, there are no scheduled or advertised celebrity appearances for fake glamour. The storylines have been tight, the promos have been the best in years and everyone in the company seems to be hitting their performance peaks at just the right time. It should be just straight-up, good, old-fashioned rasslin'.

The consensus among the dirtsheets (no, not The Sun or even ProWrestling Illustrated) reckons that this could be as good as X-Seven. It's also the end of a personal journey. I've missed more pay-per-views in my time in law school than ever before, but I can think back to memories over the last five years that will forever be associated with some very special people and some utterly unforgettable wrestling matches.

There's a good chance that, if the University of Phoenix doesn't turn up something memorable this Sunday, I'll probably want to try and run down, if not forget, my last-ever law school Wrestlemania. But that's precisely why I'm writing this now. I want to be able to look back at this and remember how pumped I was.

Because it might not mean anything at all to the layman, but to me, for the next seventy-two hours (and very possibly for at least a couple of weeks after) not much else will matter.

Alibi Afternoon

I got the security guard to break open my room lock with a metal rod and a brick at 1.30 a.m. last night. And here I thought life would get boring in my last term in college.

I also learnt the virtues of the Non-Veg Pranzo today, in addition to realising that Indian cinema needs more experiments like Love, Sex Aur Dhoka.

"Do you realise why I'm hugging you?"

It's at times like these that Moby's immortal line "don't nobody know my troubles but God" comes to mind.

And to think that I almost messed it up.

There's a lot of relief, gratitude and trepidation in my heart right now, all in equal measure. But for now, I will close my eyes and expect, like I've always done, that tomorrow is going to be made up of twenty-four hours I haven't seen yet.

Maybe the Shirdi Sai Baba is never wrong after all. :)

V, XV

I'm back in Bangalore for my last ever term in college. I checked my timetable today and even with a compulsory course eight hours a week, I have two days off, two days when I have two hours of class from 4 p.m. to 6 p.m. and three other days when the earliest I have to make it in to class is 11.20 a.m.

And yet, somehow, the promised land of fifth year, third trimester seems utterly pointless.

I received a message from a friend two nights ago that talked about a foreboding, an impending sense of doom. And though, as usual, I did the best I could to assuage fears, a very soft but decisive voice in my head told me I was making it all up.

I can hear construction motors smoothing over the new floor tiles in the hostel, I can feel the tubelight above my head flickering in disappointment and I look out my window into the other hostel and find two rooms with lights on and nobody home.

That last bit is exactly how I feel right now.

Done.

Maybe Kismat was a little over the top. It certainly felt like the world had imploded at the time, but five days of good work have ensured that I won't have to think about that debacle too much, at least till the end of March.

And the Aussies mopped up Pakistan this morning.

Now, on with the rest of my life! :)

Signs from God

Yesterday marked the end of my sixth unsuccessful pursuit of serious employment. What I initially put down to random bad luck has now become, in my opinion, a remarkable statistic and very possibly my only claim to law school fame.

I woke up with a start at 10.30 a.m. today and, after doing the usual morning things, made my way to class, having all but forgotten about yesterday (I would've said "yesterday's disappointment", but decided not to kid myself). The International Taxation Law seminar class was just wrapping up as I entered and I was walking over to my customary place at the front of class when I saw it.

The less remarkable (though, to my mind, equally significant) part of this story is that it was suspended precisely between the very two flap tables on which I usually rest my notebooks, in order to indicate that both seats are occupied, because I usually like the place next to me being vacant.

The more remarkable part of this story is that 'it' was a white polythene with six bright yellow bananas. I stared at the tables for a while as my mind thought up this blog post and then shook my head in disbelief. As I left the classroom, I looked back at the bananas and said to myself, "yaar, tera toh kela ho gaya." :)

Closing Doors

Yesterday was loaded with significance in many, many ways. Everything from literally locking the door shut on my last ever Legala to enjoying three hours of brilliant music outdoors at my last ever Strawberry Fields was marked with the conscious feeling that what was happening was very, very special.

I was reminded this evening of things I said last night about 'happiest times in law school' and 'how each year in college has been typified by how I felt on Strawberry Fields Finals night that year' and I realised that I wasn't off at all--I actually meant all of those things.

I've also found a unique way to let the dust settle on this truly fantastic weekend--a probable wisdom tooth extraction and an Undertaker interview prior to King of the Ring 1997. Since words aren't enough to describe the first, I'll reproduce the second:

"Well, I'd like to take this time to talk about Faarooq. Last week, Faarooq decided to play the race card. Well Faarooq, you need to understand that the Undertaker, he's not the white saviour, because I don't recognise colour. I'm not white, I'm not black. What I am is the reaper of wayward souls. And when it's all said and done, and when the King of the Ring is all over, and you're sitting in that dressing room and you're wondering why you're not the World Wrestling Federation champion, well, you can rest assured it's not because you're black, it's because you couldn't beat the Undertaker."

Man, I love YouTube. :)

Shibboleth, Part Two

First they were "stunning", now they are "awesome." Anything and everything is now "awesome." Stuff that is decidedly not awesome is now "awesome." Because it just is. Because when they dig deep into the endless reservoir of their collective vocabulary, "awesome" is what they pull out. A one-word demolition derby that now terrorises The Establishment.

I'd like to believe that we had a role in putting "stunning" out of commission, at least in circles that we inhabit. But never in our wildest dreams did we expect this. And I realise that I possibly don't have enough time to wage what will have to be a single-handed war. It frightens me.

Brilliant. Terrific. Outstanding. Great. Quality. Righteous.

Something, anything. Anything but "awesome."

To quote from the creator of one of the most overplayed songs (boy, wait till I write about that phenomenon!) in law school history, "Mikey. Mikey. Mikey. Turn that effin' light off. There you go. See? It's not that effin' hard."

Keep The Dream Alive

Precisely as I'd predicted, it's becoming difficult not to cry. And I've come to realise that, for the foreseeable future at least, "Keep The Dream Alive" will carry an altogether new meaning in my life.

And The Undertaker beat CM Punk for the World Heavyweight Championship at Hell In A Cell last night. Now if Big Brother puts Little-Trans-Tasmanian-Upstart-Of-A-Brother in his (its? their?) place tonight, I will actually cry.

Space And Time

Having barely been in a half-awake state for most of the day, my media player's shuffle conspired to strike a sharp stab of insecurity into my heart by playing "Love Remains The Same" by Gavin Rossdale a few minutes ago. After a fairly eventful but ultimately fruitless three days at home last weekend, that song has now been and, I suspect, shall forever be linked in my mind with the "elite" John Marshall conference room.

Given my current run of luck, there's a very good chance that, this time tomorrow, I'll be humming Oasis' "Keep The Dream Alive." In fact, I'd be surprised if I'm not. Really. It'd be difficult not to cry.

The Louise Merrett Article

I've never been a library person but is it just me or does the National Law School library not have a subscription to the International and Comparative Law Quarterly?