A review of the past 969 days!

Folks, I realize it’s been quite a while since my last post on my blog (24^th Jan 2009 to be precise). Hence thought of taking a moment to reflect on what has changed since then. And this is the subject of my latest post:

·         Demographics:

o     ~68 million babies were born in India  (~70,000 babies per day * 969 days). Many of these kids now scream in flights.

·         Economics/Finance:

o    Sensex had crashed temporarily, trading at Rs. ~8,500 in Jan 2009. It soared to 21,000 thereafter and now is back to 16,000-17,000 levels. That means, if I invested Rs. 1,000 back then, I would be sitting on Rs. 2,000 today (and about Rs. 2,500 at the peak). No, I did not invest.

o    The world was just stepping out of recession and the economic outlook was turning positive. The world is staring at “double dip” recession today and potentially a fully-blown out global macroeconomic crisis.

·         Politics:

o    2G scam,  CWG scam, Hasan  Ali money laundering scam, Bellary mines scam, Adarsh Housing Society scam, Lavasa scam, IPL scam, UP food grain scam, PF scam and many such big-ticket corruption cases one after the other greatly angered the people and India found a new hero in Anna Hazare (Anna Hazare sangharsh karo, hum tumhaare saath hai!)

o    Middle Eastern political landscape resembled the 90s (or perhaps the 80s): Osama bin Laden was alive, Egypt was run by Hosni Mobarak, Tunisia by Ben Ali, Syria by Bashar al-Assad and Libya by Col Gaddafi. Who would’ve thought these gentlemen would be powerless today (and running for their lives!)

·         Sports:

o    India won the World Cup with a six!

o    Sachin hit another purple patch in his career, scoring 200* in an ODI against South Africa. The God just got greater!

o    Manchester United won two Premier Leagues and were finalists in two Champions Leagues

·         Tech:

o    Facebook’s user base grew from 175 million to 850 million!

o    Groupon was a 2 month old company with 5 employees then. Today, some analysts peg its valuation at $25 billion!

o    The world did not hear of iPads in Jan 2009 (not even in Jan 2010)!

·         Personal:

o    In Jan 2009, I lived off my parents but was the President of my college and had people working “under” me. After graduating, I started earning. But I was “under” everyone in both the companies I have had the good fortune of working with.

o    I took over 100 international flights between May 2010 and May 2011 (and now pretend to be a seasoned traveler)

o    I was single

I welcome your feedback/comments. I can also be reached at utsavmitra@hotmail.com

A mini-dossier on Elections '08

Election date: 5^th September

Votes Polled: 324-370 (Aabhas - Utsav)

MOV: 46 (could easily have been a single digit margin tilted towards either side)

Election defining issues:

Internship Cell, Travellers, Crossroads screw-ups of previous years, hostel domination, canteen renovation, allegations of corruption etc

[Inset - Aabhas Khanna & Utsav Mitra, the two principal opposing forces]

_________________________________

7^th September:

As you already know, I’ve officially gained the bragging rights and I hereby announce that I have been elected the President of the Students’ Union after a rather keenly contested, closely followed, ultra-passionate election campaign. I would not get into a post-electoral analysis as to why we won and why they lost for two reasons –

1. It is always easy to dissect after the results are announced. As they say, everyone’s wise in posterity

2. A huge element of luck is always involved, which is conveniently ignored by seasoned psephologists of all hues and colors for all practical purposes

I fully understand that the chair brings enormous responsibility and would test my mettle at every turn in this journey. The feeling of victory was absolutely overwhelming, personally satisfying and professionally rewarding. Clearly, I would remember this electoral journey of mine for the rest of my life – being rewarded with a prestigious post for campaigning for my room-mate, elevating myself to the #1 presidential contender’s position, plotting a series of moves in advance, second-guessing the opponent (s), designing the electoral strategy at a macro and micro level, employing covert and overt campaigning tactics and finally the emotional rollercoaster that I underwent during the process. I fully owe my victory to a few people who I do not have any words to thank. A few friends went out of their way to render unconditional support to my team and certainly deserve immense gratitude from our end – Arvind Shankar, Ritesh Daga, Manish Sachdeva, Sushant Joshi and Kuldeep Kaushik among several others.

[Inset - My post-victory salute, this had almost become a trademark of our campaign]

Our campaign theme was largely centered on the demonstrated leadership track record and proven expertise in running college affairs that I, personally and my team possessed. The opposition had some passionate orators with them and well-dressed pom-pom girls to attract attention, but alas, no prior experience in managing events of such scale and magnitude. Their campaign was an Obamaesque pitch for change, which unfortunately for us, was gathering tremendous momentum and giving us more than just sleepless nights. We were ultra-paranoid about the prospect of losing, since we just had SO much to lose, while the opposition really had nothing much to lose. I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t a definite goal to lead the Students’ Union as its President in my 3^rd year, very early as a freshman. I had been gathering credentials, expertise and knowledge in both election management and running the affairs successfully post-victory, right since my first year. I would’ve seen my three year long aspiration annihilate and lost tonnes of self-confidence, if I lost.

[Inset - People from both camps catching every syllable of the election results while they are being announced]

Elections have excited me for many reasons and I thank everyone (including God) for handing me this opportunity. I admit, not everyone is fortunate enough to be seriously considered for even contesting, let alone winning. Handling pressure, negotiating, deal-making, coercion and taking tough calls are just some of the traits that I’ve acquired or got better at, all thanks to the electoral process. Democracy, if for nothing else, is important because it allows quite a few people in every batch to receive these lessons. Anyway, nothing much to add really in this piece, except that I shall remember the electoral process for as long as I live, for the right and the wrong reasons, and I thank each and every person who made our victory possible with due sincerity.

[Inset - People from our camp going nuts post victory]

(In)Finite Dilemmas

(In)Finite Dilemmas…

Call them dilemmas, call them anxieties or coin your own term. The last few months have put me into deep thinking mode, every thought that pinches my mind every step I take, makes me think - the same thing. What will I be doing 5 years from now, 10 years from now and 20 years from now. And more importantly what I ACTUALLY want to do with my life. The Runaway Bride OST sung by U2 goes – “But I still haven’t find, what I’m looking for”. My predicament is, and that indeed is the big question - What do I really want?

All these years, I was supposed to be an IIT-ian Engineer, but as I found out, I wanted to be an IIT-ian first but had no option but be an Engineer (c’mon don’t tell me that they offer pure sciences and that they are worth doing) When I now look back at my coursework for IITJEE preparations, I laugh at myself, sometimes aloud. Was I studying fluid dynamics? Was I reading how nucleic acids and proteins interact? Was that exciting me by any sense of the term? Was I happy doing that? Would I have liked that as a career? I have very strong doubts. Throughout my life however I have been stronger (both in terms of aptitude and attitude) at Mathematics, English and Social Sciences (till class X). So come to think of it this way, Economics was much better for me as a career option, and now this is what I am doing. So screwing up IITJEE was might actually have been a blessing in disguise. Bloodlines alone don’t and shouldn’t dictate anyone’s future (Dad’s an IITian and hence that naturally meant I HAD to be one, no other option granted)

This whole year I’ve spent my time doing what I liked (wholly and fully). I’ve tried my hand at quizzing (good beginning, but a long treacherous road ahead), dramatics (sound tracks, but no real acting, I hope to continue) and devoted almost all the time organizing events for – Placement Cell, Debating Society, Commerce Society, Mathematics and Computers Society et al. I swear by God, that each and every non-academic thing that I did this year was AMAZING, and I must admit, three years of extensive IIT Prep killed many of my so-called-creative-talents, and some of them (thankfully) have suddenly found a new lease of life, like writing, and reading magazines, journals, books and blogs. My violin got me a Mr. Talented tag during the Freshers for the record, and positive events around me have kept me both busy and happy.

Now of course, there’s a problem of another kind. I just haven’t studied for the entire year – a couple of weeks during Home Examinations notwithstanding. Now suddenly I wake up, it is a couple of weeks into March and the exams begin early April. A hydra-headed monster called Final Examination suddenly stares down upon me in the most bloodthirsty manner, and I don’t have any weapons to fight it. I stand completely unarmed. But then, is assuming the Final Exams a hydra-headed monster an overestimation? Is it really worth all the hype? Does anyone care how much you’ve scored in the first year of your graduation? Does anyone say – “Mr. X pursued his under-graduation from SRCC and he scored a 72.4% in his first year!”? Well, not that I’ve heard of. So the question is, “In the long run do the first year scores really matter”? And my answer is definitely NO! Should you pass and try scoring a ‘decently’? Yes, but decently shouldn’t mean obscenely. What’s the point sacrificing the much-touted-for ‘college-life’ for a few extra percents in your final exams? How many people have I not seen crib as they “Didn’t make most of their college life” as they “Only Studied!” and that the “Time has all gone” What’s important is living life to the fullest, making the most of what comes our way. College life is the stage when boys turn to men, when leaders emerge out of ordinary folks, when your creative talents are put to the limits, when you compete with the very best in the country in sports, debating, drama etc, when the idealism of youth is actually put to practice, where dreams are dreamt and act as springboards for future. If all this is to be put on hold, just because someone wants slog his way up to the topper’s charts, at the expense of all this, may God give him some sense!

I’m not saying – “Don’t give a damn and fail!” Absolutely not! But the message should be taken in the right spirit. This is the age to dream, and ask yourself what you want. This is the age to know what your passions are, so that you can later turn it into your profession. Wouldn’t turning your passion into your profession be an absolute delight? Every successful person you meet or hear of had it all planned in his or her early years. Jamsetji Tata always had an entrepreneurial zeal in him, Shahrukh Khan always wanted to be a movie star, Sachin Tendulkar always wanted to play for India, Ronaldinho always wanted to win the World Cup. The word to note is ‘always’. Think of something that you ‘always’ wanted to do or would want to do it for a career. Think of how you want to be remembered when you leave the world. And your answers will emerge. Remember, it is just that much necessary to study so as to enable you entry to the biggest and best institutions in the world, where you would meet the brightest people and know how they plan, what they think and how they act. If that requires effort, put that in. For example: Studying for your GMAT for the much-coveted HBS seat would matter in the long run; studying for IITJEE for the entry into the IITs would matter in the long run so on and so forth… The only thing to probe is what you want to do and how you see yourself achieving that goal of yours.

Taking a very personal example: Do I like Economics? Absolutely, without a shred of doubt. Do I see myself as a Member of the Planning Commission 35 years later, spending my life researching about an obscure topic and earning a pittance? Impossible, NEVER! Do I want to see myself as a person with amazing leadership capacity, excellent organizational ability, good awareness of the world around, great communication and interpersonal skills wanting to pursue an MBA from an Ivy League University with a good base in Economics? Oh hell yeah. So would my first year percentage during under-graduation matter? (Provided I don’t screw it up very badly that is) Not at all! But will all the non-academic yet exceedingly important skills naturally come to me if I just kept slogging for five extra percents? I don’t think so!

So there you are and there I am! Yes, I need to study; yes I need to score ‘decently’ (the word again!) But should that be at the expense of something I care, at the expense of something I cherish? I don’t think so!

Anyway, is the DU Economics degree exceptionally good by any standard? Any? No. It is an average course. There are a lot of things that we should know of, that are covered, but yes, just covered. And then there are a plethora of things that are just not touched upon. Nothing that makes you think, and this is what lacks. Is there any incentive for a student to study the MIT Courseware to know what he’s missing? Or to read The Economist or the WSJ to keep himself abreast with what’s actually going on in the world, and how the economics we study is actually working there in the real world? No. This violates even the first principle of economics that we studied – “Human beings respond to incentives” Sometimes a student who writes that tad bit extra is penalized. The reason? “That wasn’t mentioned in the book. You first write what’s given in the book. Then write other things.” But what if his example is better? Sorry, you can’t write that… this is DU. What if your paper is corrected by some teacher in the Ramlal Anand college, who hasn’t even heard of the Wall Street? So, come to think of it, even reading economics might not help. You just have to read the prescribed books and give those very examples when asked. No other information is warranted. Is it how we want tomorrow’s Indians to be? Well, I’m not asking any more questions.

But then, am I enjoying whatever I’m being taught here? The ‘important’ subjects (and I include English among them)…YES! So should I be studying a bit more than I presently am? Yes, considering that I don’t have any other ‘constructive’ thing to do, and that a few extra percents wouldn’t obviously hurt me in anyway, and can only help me, maybe I should actually give studying a try. So was all this exercise futile? No, no… It made me think. The infinite dilemmas certainly seem finite now.

I just figured out, as I went along writing this down and as I rambled along, I guess I found a few answers hidden somewhere beneath these lines. I atleast am able to fix a few pieces up the jigsaw puzzle of my life. Now, I see hope and I see light. The cerebral masturbation might just have helped!

PS: Though I meandered around points and ideas, and vagabondize the entire piece, it categorically put a lot of things in perspective. I am no one to advice other people, after all what credentials do I have? However, I felt that, there might be others facing a similar predicament, and might be groping for excuses. Here were mine, but I somehow reached a few answers (inadvertently albeit)

Mission Admission and Beyond - Part VI

Part VI: Hostel Freshers (A Day of Cruel Kindness...)

So the day arrived… the 24th of September 2006 – the day of our Hostel Freshers’ Party. This was the day the 1st Year hostellers (fuchchas) were eagerly, anxiously and desperately awaiting. On this very day was supposed to be ‘the worst one hour’ of our lives and following the – the best two and a half years – hence the apprehension. We heard a lot of these so-called ‘horror’ stories, but I for one, took them lightly. So what exactly happened that day…to know that, read on!

After lunch on that day, three of us were called into the hostel cultural secretary’s room, to blow a hundred odd balloons. I never had the idea that I could actually blow about 70 balloons single-handedly, well, that’s a different story. After some silly stuff (putting balloons inside your T-shirt and asking someone to fondle etc….), we were all sent to our block to take bath and dress up ‘formally’ as the Principal and the Warden were supposed to address us. After the surprisingly informal speech thoroughly punctuated by cheeky comments and feel-good one-liners, we had delicious food in the mess (for once!!!).The normal food in the mess equips you to face any sort of food in life, so that’s not all that bad too (isn’t it?) The reason was – caterers had come from outside (lol). The ceremony ‘formally’ concluded when we gave away the Best Senior Awards – one from the 2nd year and one from the 3rd. But as I said, the ceremony ‘formally’ ended, now the ‘real’ thing started. The seniors gave Mr. And Miss Fuchcha (yes! Miss Fuchcha in a boys’ hostel) titles. The Miss Fuchcha is by the way supposed to strip off, wear pink lingerie and also do disgusting stuff like blow condoms and pose for photographs (being that awfully clad). It sounds nauseating…but believe me, it’s awesome fun. Thereafter we were informed of the ‘dress-code’ in which we were supposed to be attired in, for the movie that we’d planned to go.
So the ‘dress-code’…what exactly is it? Here it goes – Formal full-sleeve shirt with one sleeve rolled up, Bermudas (or shorts) with a belt worn over, the shirt tucked in from one side and not from the other, a shoe-polish ‘teeka’, well-oiled (not gelled) hair with a pony-tail and footwear – formal shoe on the right and a hawai chappal on the left. We were all excited and embarrassed to the same measure and took loads of photos as well.

The ‘worst one-hour’ was just about to begin – the dreaded ‘kicking session’. We queued up, one by one, boldly. The tradition is that, after you receive the kick from a particular senior, you needn’t address him as ‘sir’, not just that you can even call him by his nickname (assigned either by us or by his batch mates). But wait…all this was supposed to happen after each one of us got sixty (yes, sixty!!!) bone-jarring kicks on our posterior. Seniors basically compete on who’s kick was the hardest – they take long run-ups, all of them wear shoes and give one power kick…the immediate expression is ‘Ahhhhhh….’ Or a profanity (can’t type them here) and then the senior hugs you, introduces himself and then welcomes you to the hostel. The same thing repeats for the next 59 times, and if you just happen to be the ‘favourite fuchcha’ of some senior, he can give you any number of kicks he wants to. I fortunately (or unfortunately in this case), happened to be a favourite of quite a few seniors and thereby received many more than my batch-mates. After the kicks none was able to move, let alone walk or sit and travel in the bus for the movie which we’d planned to see. Taking baby-steps, crawling and limping, we somehow got in to the bus at a snail’s pace and started teasing the seniors (for the first time by the way). The seniors (obviously feeling helpless) had this to say – ‘Uchlo beta! Ab tumhara hi mauka hai’ (Jump, my boy, it’s your turn now). We called the seniors by their nicknames and raised slogans like – ‘Sabse bada haraami aaja, Raja Raja’ or ‘Hawas ka pujari kaun, Aman Aman’ or simply ‘Kedia loves Tina, Kedia loves Tina’ (let me not reveal anything more for now…. lol)

For once, we forgot that our buttocks were all sore and red and we weren’t actually being able to sit…. until a monstrous speed breaker arrived and we were thrown out of our seats, we screamed and yelled at the driver for that – poor guy, he had no idea what we were going through. We had to be carried out of the bus into the theatre (literally almost) and the on-lookers were dumbstruck looking at our ensemble. Obviously understanding that we were being ragged, they asked us what we study and from where…. The answer, in unison was “STEPHEN’S”. The irony was that, it wasn’t planned. The movie was a drab bore and I slept through. Again, as per tradition, we were taken to India Gate to have ice creams and we returned by about 3 AM.
Just if you thought that all ends here…you’re absolutely wrong! Now was the time for the ‘Cosmetic Surgery’ – toothpaste, gum, oil, talcum powder, deodorant, pickle, creams etc were all poured and applied generously to our hair (and pubes), and man…does it burn! We took bath in chilly cold water at 4 in the morning and most caught cold. Very few actually attended classes the next day (I was one of the few who did…) and I limped for the next 4 days.
So this was our Hostel Freshers’ – sleazy, messy, outrageous, sometimes even inhuman…. yet fun.
Don’t you think so?

PS: I'd love to give you a few pictures, but would I be allowed to?

Mission Admission and Beyond - Part V

Part V: Dance Til Ya Drop Dead!

As earlier mentioned, we the fuchchas were desperately awaiting the Freshers Parties. It is a three-day affair. The theme for the first day is traditional Indian ensemble and the day is referred to in common parlance as ‘Ethnic Freshers’.
A day prior to the gaiety, we (hostellers) slogged it out in the auditorium. We moved all those super-heavy, sordid benches to make place for us to dance the next day… that job was seriously excruciating. And to top it all, we actually mopped (jhadoo-pocha) the floors of the entire auditorium. What an ordeal! This being the first day of our festivities, all of us were geared up. Most girls had innumerable trips to the beauty parlour (thereby giving the industry a boost) and just looked gorgeous. The elegance was there to be seen; I for one was certainly floored (and bowled over) by quite a few of them (no, no names please!!!). Not wanting to be overshadowed, we (guys) too took the best out of our wardrobes, and did whatever little to augment a few shades of our skin tone and tried to appear much better than we normally do. Our ‘normal’ look is very well known however. Most of us being aesthetically challenged, the best we could do was asking for suggestions and follow them. We ended up picking up those sherwanis or jodhpuris or kurta-pyjamas. Luckily the colour combinations aren’t left for us to decide!!!
The bridegroom look suited most of us though. The party as usual started ‘fashionably late’. The moment we entered the auditorium, we were shocked…literally! The look we’re used to in the auditorium is your idea of a complete disaster. But to see all disco lights flashing, and that loud, blaring music from the speakers…it was like, where have I come? There were several circles that people formed. One was a DramSoc circle, there were about two hostel circles, and most other circles were those comprising say ten common friends. Those belonging to more than one circle hopped and danced like wild animals or criminals just let loose. The wilder, the better! The fact I have two left feet was the last of my concerns for that day. After two hours of non-stop dancing, and playing mock-dandiya, they announced a ‘Talent Hunt’ round. The fuchchas were supposed to perform anything that they consider themselves good at. Yours truly won it after he played his violin.
We were back to dancing yet again. Hostellers as usual, start most of the uncanny activities. This time, it was formation of a hostel-train that culminated at the stage, and all the hostellers assembled on the stage, exhibiting their rowdiness like there’s no tomorrow. The pasticcio that we left the place in needs no description I suppose. There was a ‘Best-Couple’ title as well. Pairing up was the rule (Pauli’s exclusion principle notwithstanding). I got one too! The title however was decided only on the dancing skills. And as already mentioned, people will two left feet shouldn’t expect prizes (atleast in dancing!!!). The Freshers’ party was an opportunity to make loads your friend's friends your own friends. I got introduced to so many people, and I’m now closer to some of the introduced more than the introducer was to the introduced itself. I made most of the occasion, and welcomed many more people into my world of friends. There was also ample scope for transforming some of your acquaintances into your friends. The overwhelming applause and support I got from the crowd after my performance was truly humbling, I couldn’t have asked for anything better. So for everyone in general, and me in particular, this was a day to remember. Second day was the fresher party organized by the ‘Students Union’. So this was the ‘bigger’ party. The theme for the afternoon was Summer Wear. Today, people didn’t go the extra mile doing make-up or trying to save the beauty parlour industry from bankruptcy. I had my first tryst with dudity (a word coined by me!). Gelled my hair, spiked it up, and looked weird (the picture should give you an idea of the bout of temporary insanity I was suffering from). I was quite a head-turner though (albeit in a different sense). Again the same routine followed, dancing till you drop, (and for me, that meant, as audaciously as I possibly could). The Mr. And Miss Fresher titles were decided too. These two were basically the Fresher parties organized by the college for all students. To know what happens to hostellers, read on…

Mission Admission and Beyond - Part IV

Part IV: A Tryst with Elections and Politics...

One afternoon in the last week of August, the ENTIRE hostel was called to the field; we wondered what was wrong, as till then such an exercise was never conducted. We were asked to bunk classes (if at all), bunk DramSoc, bunk anything that we would otherwise do at that moment on a normal day, and assemble at the field, and then were made to switch off our cell phones as well. So all this only added to the apprehension. But things emerged pretty soon. The seniors briefed us up about the College Elections that are conducted every year, and then they told us whom they nominated as candidates for the posts of President and Secretary of the respective societies, the students union etc. The highest one is the President of the College Students Union. The societies are: ComSoc (Commerce Society), EcoSoc (Economics Society), ELS (English Literary Society), HSS (Hindi Sahitya Sabha), HPS (History and Political Science Society)…there are other ones too – Fine Arts, Mathematics and Computer Science Society etc.

The DramSoc and DebSoc however don’t hold elections; they simply nominate their heads. We had a good look of who was presenting his candidature…not that we cared, but it’s just that everything was so new then. We never faced ‘serious’ elections like these before; the ones at school were nowhere this intense. Everything seemed planned and coordinated and hence, every decision of theirs was put out to us as unanimous. We being the inexperienced fuchchas that we are, took everything on face value. Until, two of my friends and me were called to a restaurant, fed well, and given a glimpse of the ‘other side’ of the story. We were told how the ‘internals’ (a typical election jargon – it’s the process of deciding on who stands up for which post) were all ‘stage-managed’ and that these guys (the ones who treated us) got a raw deal. The three of us were perplexed for quite sometime, and we decided to call an ‘internal meeting’ of our own. This however would involve only our batch mates. The initial buzz around the elections being very high, everyone turned up. We discussed whom we felt should stand up, and tried understanding the intricacies of this political maze. We are however given no right to choose (as per hostel tradition). We are supposed to support whom the seniors ask us to, irrespective of his eligibility, capability etc. And considering that in all the years earlier, there was always a single panel from the hostel, there was never a doubt of our allegiance. This year, unfortunately, there were two panels from the hostel. Both of them were right in their own ways, and we were supposed to vote and campaign united. This was however the tough part. We love our seniors, and asking us to choose was a thing unacceptable to us. We spoke to both camps, at a micro level and the macro level as well, to somehow bridge gaps between them. But things couldn’t fall in place. The instructions were loud and clear: 1. Choose one panel and support it unanimously 2. Make sure that ultimately a hosteller alone wins (for he has worked the hardest and will continue to do so) But choosing which panel to support was THE task on hand. Both camps would come to our block, brainwash us for hours to the point of making us all agreeing to their stand. The pendulum swings of opinion were just there to be seen. After a particular session by say Camp A, the entire junior block would be with them. Then immediately, after the Camp B’s address, the entire block would be with them. There was no consistency of opinion. Every time new points would be raised, more questions to be answered, and more skeletons out of the cupboards. This just went on and on…every night, till 2 AM or 3 AM even at times. When we realized that it was time to give our opinions, as a batch, to preserve ‘batch-unity’ (an oxymoron actually) and to ensure that there are no further flip-flops and that the actual election strategy can be engineered. I just sent out an sms, asking my batch mates’ opinion on an open debate, between the candidates…it was just a crazy idea, but I never for once thought that it would actually turn out to be the case. Surprisingly, ALL those I messaged agreed, and one by one, we had these debates. After each debate, we (the juniors) were supposed to vote (secretly) and then the majority verdict would be followed. This was done to ensure that our respective allegiances weren’t known to our seniors and so that some unanimity in the decision is brought. Let me now bug you with all the details…but quite a few uncomfortable details came out during these debates. Horrible allegations, and counter-allegations, points and counter-points…. we’ve seen them all now, and verified them as well. In spite of our calls for unanimity, the batch ultimately got divided for a few days…into these two camps. I won’t comment on whom our batch chose for which post, after all the majority rules (isn’t it?). I’ll spare you all the details lest you feel like pressing Alt+F4. We campaigned - which meant introducing the candidates to our peer-groups, smsing them, calling them up, buttering them, writing the names of the candidates on the black-boards, speaking highly of them - in full force, and were somehow supposed to ensure that we bring in their votes. The equations were simple…700 votes are polled normally. There are 120 hostellers. All hostellers will vote together…and assuming each hosteller brings in atleast two more dayski (slang for day-scholar) votes, which accounts for 120+120*2=360…. majority!!! The hosteller has won. Simple enough, isn’t it? That’s precisely the reason, why a hosteller always wins. The 7th of September was the Speech Day, on this day, all the candidates were supposed to make their last ditch effort at capturing the neutral votes. The actual voting was supposed to be on the 8th of September. Each of us sent 50 odd text messages to our friends…somehow trying to influence them to vote for those whom we were supporting. After the rather easy voting process (we used EVMs), all we had to do was to wait…and this wait turned out to be one of the longest, yet most interesting waits of our lives. The DramSoc crowd too was waiting for the result, and so was the hostel crowd… that meant two huge, noisy, fun-loving groups together. Five of us were common to both the groups, and we had the MAX fun. We sang lallas, cheered, carried out mock-processions…it was just full on BC (sorry, can’t expand!). One of the lallas for a girl from my class (Eco) and my roomie in the hostel (B.Com)…both of them were so terribly embarrassed…that it’s to be seen to be believed. And there’s also a spicy term for a B.Com guy falling for an Eco girl (or vice versa)…. It’s called an ‘intercourse’ relation… pun (un) intended!!! After the results were declared, we embraced each other and just ran back to our rooms, to change clothes for the first of our election parties. It was in the canteen…we were made to stand topless (we’re guys, don’t worry!) on the tables and cheer, howl, shriek and shout out slogans. While we do all that, litres of cold drinks are poured on us…we actually took bath in cold drinks (last heard – over 150 litres of cold drinks were used). The slogans were all rhythmic (with foot tapping and all) – ‘Arre College Presi kaisa ho, Pratyush Kumar jaisa ho’ Our voices actually cracked after all the vociferous screaming and sloganeering. Every single thing was photographed, for us to cherish. Immediately after that, we were asked to put on our shirts and go for the ‘Victory Lap’ (see the adjoining picture) That party however was arguably the most enjoyable one of life (and the most tiring too). Oh, I just missed out on the DUSU (Delhi University Students’ Union) elections, may be because it seriously didn’t matter to us, who won … ABVP or NSUI. The others (SFI, INSO, USF and the like) stood no chance, and that was pretty obvious. Both the student bodies heavily bribed us though. Don’t get surprised… no cash was offered. It’s just that any food we ordered would come at our doorsteps, any amount of soft drinks, and any amount of hard drinks too. We shamelessly hogged like gluttons. We actually had a two-dinner regime for a few days…the ‘normal’ dinner at 8 and the ‘bribe’ at 11.30. We waited for the second one (obviously!!!). One evening, there was no water in the hostel cooler, and we just called the NSUI guy up, and we just had enormous amounts of soft drinks ready at our disposal!!! But really, no one actually cared about who won the DUSU elections, we were more bothered about the free treats (and they were always welcome!) The second election party was on the Sunday evening. It was not a teetotaler party however though. Liquor flowed like water on that evening. And so many of my friends went ‘talli’ and started uttering non compos mentis (leading to ridiculous situations). We were astounded to find some guys drink inconceivable quantities and with élan…guys whom no one thought would even mouth alcohol. So that was one day to remember…it doubtlessly was.

PS: You are not allowed to magnify the first image, or ask for more of that sort!

Mission Admission and Beyond - Part III

Part III: Ragging? Naa... say PDP

I already spoke about the fear-factor that haunted us…the ever-beguiling (and over-hyped) term…RAGGING. We started getting a feel of it at its premature stages itself…right from the second day of college. We were taught (or should I say - trained) everything though…what to say, how to say, what to do and how to do. The ‘lessons’ were never direct; they’d only give a subtle hint… that would enable us to get the answer. The first ‘lesson’ to be learnt was – Hostel Rules. We were supposed to enquire and find out. The catch was – no hostel senior would spell them out and no day-scholar would know. So the right way was to assume and grope for answers…and if the seniors were convinced that we made an effort, they’d tell us the rules, and ask someone to teach everyone. Thereafter, if anyone doesn’t answer, he’ll be put on the rack. We were made to perform some other activities also (parental advisory…read at your own peril)…like abusing each other as harshly as possible, seducing a tree with ‘emotions’, performing gay-scenes (luckily with clothes on), and had to play many other gross games. One of them is KBC, another is Colgate, and they’re more nameless games too. Can’t describe KBC (hint…we’re supposed to answer questions)…. too obscene to be put up on a family-blog like mine. Colgate is atleast describable – one guy is supposed to apply toothpaste on his teeth, and the other guy is supposed to suck it out (yuckkkkk, yes!!!). There’re rules and tricks for all games (which I won’t give away…waiting for fuchchas next year!!!)

Trust me, after the initial disgust (and cringing), we realized that all these games were actually entertaining…may be our standards took nose-dives or whatever, but towards the later part, we actually used to laugh them off, and do everything sportingly (that’s the key to everything here…. a very important lesson for life).
There’s another facet of ragging (it shouldn’t be called so here atleast, and luckily it’s not)…it is called PDP (Personality Development Programme). We were made to bring forms (for CA, CAT, IIFT etc) and movie tickets and withdraw money from ATMs, and get railway reservations done (note the ands…it isn’t a typographical error), from far-flung places in Delhi. The good part about it is that you’re reimbursed all costs (transport, calling etc), and are given ‘refreshment’ too (we called it ‘pagaar’ or ‘tips’ however). We learnt quite a few things in the process (and some the hard-way). I for one, never withdrew money from an ATM, almost never traveled alone (let alone in an alien city like Delhi), never haggled for prices, never stood in railway queues etc, before coming here…and it’s all been an experience. The goof-ups notwithstanding (there were few…not denying that), the PDP thing really gave us a lot. We now know no fear (want proofs?)… Singing the hostel pledge (can’t write it here - ask the hostellers how holy the lyrics are…) standing in the middle of the road requires guts, walking up to unknown girls in college and proposing also requires intrepidity. So all in all, we gained, and this ‘ragging-period’ will supposedly ‘equip us for life’ (to quote a senior). There were certain unwritten (obviously…) rules that were imposed. Wishing the seniors whenever we see them, addressing them as ‘sir’; wearing formals to class, not being allowed to carry a bag, not being allowed to sit in the first bench etc. There were a few practical concessions though (and we thank them for these) – we needn’t wish them, if we are with our girlfriends or classmates (lest we feel embarrassed).
The one thing bugging was these ‘where are you? Come to room no. 28 immediately’ sort of messages. The best thing was to ignore them, and if at all reprimanded, claim that you’re phone was on silent mode and that you didn’t see (ha ha ha). The innumerable amounts of water we had to fill was another pain. The moment a senior spotted one of us in their block, he would hand over his bottle, and then others their bottles, vessels, or containers (or whatever) …and ask us to fill them up. I on a certain day, filled as many as 21 bottles at once!!! (And this for someone, who never even had to even take water himself from the fridge).
All this was supposed to terminate after the Hostel Freshers’ Party, which always seemed an eternity away.


PS: Ragging is officially banned, hence can't put pictures up....

Mission Admission and Beyond - Part II

Part II: Feeling College Life...

A few days into the college, quite a few mental barriers had already been crushed…we now openly discussed our crushes (among other things…both in class as well as the hostel), and as expected, most crushes clashed! We were getting used to Rajiv Jha (I wish I had his pic!)…our impressive-from-the-first-instant Eco teacher, his accent, his mannerisms, his way of teaching…his everything. Speaking of crushes, quite a few girls actually had a crush on him (and serious ones, you should’ve seen the intensity with which they confessed, it showed on their faces. Of course, they laughed it off later…) The other teachers, Priyanka Bhatia…our statistics teacher, looks straight out of a magazine cover(how I wish I had her picture!)…my eyes would light up every time she’d come to class…and my classmates would sms me – See Utsav, she’s wearing pink today or look, she’s looking gorgeous…and I’d blush. (Ok, I’m no exception…it’s only that I’m a bit public about it…lots

of girls are after Amit Sachdeva and Rajiv Jha as well, as mentioned…) Other teachers were alright, if only they made the classes a bit more fun. Our organizational skills got a shot-in-the-arm after we organized…mass-bunks (yes! What did you think I’d say?) Things like these were COMPLETELY unimaginable in our good-old school days. Now we started gelling well with our classmates, 6 of us formed a ‘Sing-Soc’ (a now redundant, singing society…it was fully-functional for 3 days)…more than enhancement of our singing abilities (which was never an intention anyway), I made good buddies with the other five…and I found out that I was seriously pathetic in remembering lines. The name was a rip-off of the other ‘functioning’ societies…DramSoc (Dramatics Society), DebSoc (Debating society) etc. Oh…speaking about DramSoc…on the first day of classes, 5 odd guys came to our class speaking about what the DramSoc does, what it doesn’t…how much fun it’ll be etc…and the way they spoke…most of us were drawn towards it…it was a different story that most of us hadn’t even acted or done anything close to theatre or drama in school. There were two days of auditions(see the pic, how jam-packed it was)…all of us performed what we were asked to…some funnily, some boldly, some seriously, some dumbly, some horribly and some exceptionally well. The topics were quite interesting actually…we were given to read a short passage first in English and then in Hindi…and after that given a character…whom we had to portray in a matter of ten minutes…quite a few characters were out-of-the-box…and that only made things juicy…someone was asked to play a lesbian, another was made to play a guy who was caught watching porn by his dad, another girl had to play a rape-victim…there were some ‘stereotypical performances’ too (much to the dislike of ________)…but nonetheless, I’m sure the performances made the judges a lot to think about…and made their job tougher…the sheer number of applications to process itself must’ve been an arduous task. The short listed candidates’ names were put up on the notice board…and after a few days of auditions…we were called for a ‘workshop’. We were made to do what we called ‘military drills’ under the scorching sun…walking, running, sprinting…and some other physical drills. This apart, we were taught many things like eye-contact, saying clichéd dialogues like ‘I love you’, ‘I hate you’ etc to everyone you see around…with emotions! The first three days of that ‘workshop’ left me tanned…thereafter (thanks to the Rain Gods)…it was conducted in the auditorium…we were practicing eye-contact, facial expressions, co-ordination and a lot of other things…. in no time, we could ourselves feel the difference. To ensure that everything isn’t monotonic, we regularly had these little things, where everyone’s creativity was put to the razor’s edge…ad-mad, 5-word dramatization, machine-construction, prop-up etc. Ad-mad is a concept where we’ll have to sell a product (no matter how outlandish… black-toothpaste for example)…the most talked about one was…selling Aproop (a stud senior), it was fun however, all the way. The 5-word dramatization was a concept which basically is…we were divided into groups of six, and we were randomly told to choose 5 words…and construct a play in 5 minutes…with those 5 words as the core-theme. Our group (it turned out Sing-Soc members…) chose 5 emotions…and we pulled it off well…there was a much-talked about lesbian scene in our play…that still lingers on people’s minds (kudos to Anisha and Girija…you looked REAL), the machine-construction was an innovative concept…someone’s name would be randomly called, he’d have to come on stage and pretend to do something…then another name will be called, and he’d have to build on to that, without however communicating, everything’s supposed to be impromptu, and the process continues…the final machine (gadget) should be identifiable . This was I guess the toughest thing in the entire workshop. Some light-hearted discussion or a song or a lalla (a typical DramSoc phrase…it’s sung by everyone about someone, who’s perceived to have been bowled over in love) always offset the serious stuff that we were put through. Finally, we were given three days of time and were asked to prepare a 5 minute solo play…and on any subject of our choice. This was supposedly the D-Day, after which we’d be categorized into English Stage Play, Hindi Stage Play and Street Play teams. All of us prepared our parts, and hoped for the best. The main reason why I pushed myself harder was I wanted to get into the English Stage Play team…primary reason being – no practicing in the sun. I played a jehadi terrorist who’s being interrogated…after my performance; the response garnered was truly overwhelming…I found myself on cloud 9…there were many great performances that day but one word from the judges made my day (So much so for modesty!)… The ‘results’ were announced in an hour or so…and yippee! I got into the English Stage Play team (they say, my tone of my epidermis has lightened ever since…what compliments!) Our ‘informal’ interactions gained momentum and slowly, all DramSocers (members of DramSoc) bonded so well (some ionic, some covalent, some lattice, some valence and some Van der Waal’s…ah, another sick PJ)…that it now seems that we know each other for years together. A typical DramSoc day starts at 1.30 (post-lunch)…we sit at the Xerox lawns on those steps, share tiffins, listen to music, chat, sing, howl, dance, pull each others’ legs and just have a ball…the lingo is ‘Vellapanti’. Ask any DramSocer and he’ll testify. And there’s Babulal on her (yes, her!, see the pic) royal seat, ever ready to give company. It’s a she by the way; don’t get into the trappings of a name (and gender). Then we go to our respective camps and ‘serious’ practice starts. That was DramSoc for you.

PS:
Babulal and DramSoc auditions pics are courtesy Shanky

Mission Admission and Beyond - Part I

Part I: Genesis of College Life

The earlier blog (Haridwar one…have you read it??) was at the focal point of all the hustle-bustle of the admission process. (For your information, I got into Shri Ram College of Commerce, Delhi in the Economics Hons. Stream, see the picture, that's my college!). This was the assuage that my parents needed…they didn’t want any more of the uncertainty (I’ll tell you why, read on). My near and dear ones were gladdened as I got into “a great college like SRCC”. Hailing from Hyderabad, the accommodation was always a sticky-issue; most suggested me to take the hostel. We were told that there were only 3 berths from the entire Economics stream in the first year in the General Category…so that only added to my mom’s jitteriness. We had to clear an interview (ugh...another one), which I luckily did (else would I mention it here???) After clearing the hostel interview, we were given the luxury of choosing our roommates and the rooms too (this supposedly wasn’t there earlier). After lots of permutations and combinations, I chose a triple seater room with two other guys from Calcutta. The room incidentally (or otherwise) is easily the best one in the block, and yes, Lady Luck smiled, and we got it!!
Both guys (commercies, by the way) are toppers of their respective schools and have got these obscene marks in their Class XII, so I was constantly thanking Lady Luck (I love you…. are you single???) After all these (college, accommodation etc) were set, we flew back to Hyderabad and as expected had “royal treatment” for a few days (you know why…son’s going far away to study, so lots of pampering and all…) We spent a few days shopping for essentials (some of which turned out to be luxuries…) and then the day of my departure arrived. Mom (expectedly) didn’t want to leave me alone, and she came all the way to Delhi to ensure that I do things rightly and settle down smoothly (mom na…understand!). But mind you, she left three days before college began…she sort of dumped me at Delhi and returned to Hyderabad… which in effect meant, that I had to do EVERYTHING on my own (and I did that…)

The much longed “college life” was nearer than I ever thought. The first day (15th of July) was an “Orientation Programme” for us (fuchchas…freshmen in SRCC lingo). All of us reported well in-time, and I (atleast) was scanning through the crowd looking for known faces…found my room-mates there…and some other people whom I met during admissions…being the extrovert I am, I initiated the talks…asked them from where they were, what they liked etc. The programme, however, was languid. Classes were supposed to begin on the 17th. We noted down the timetables on the 15th and reported accordingly on the 17th. The first class was an introduction class basically, our HoD (Dr. AJC Bose) came to our class taught us a few college rules (never to wish teachers when they come to class, never to stand etc…the startling contrast with school was apparent in the first hour itself) and asked us to answer precisely three questions crisply
1. Your name and where you’ve come from (not percentages!!!)
2. Which book you’re reading at the moment or which incident of late has stirred you up
3. What you want to do in life
We got interesting (and a few amusing) replies from everyone…someone considered researching (on game-theory) as a career trajectory, someone desired to get into the UN or the WB, someone else said he ‘learns from films’, someone emphatically announced that she ‘hates’ reading books, another funny proclamation was someone who wanted to be the ‘King of the Universe’…responses varied from the wacky to the weird to the super-serious to the super-dumb…I immediately got a rough idea of my class…that it’s fun, and that it has the potential to have a plethora of intriguing conversations (which can soon go out of hand as most of us seemed to suffer from insanity, or just that our ideas seem to bizarre and obscure).
Remembering names however, was a problem initially. There were many goof-ups and screw-ups…but it took three odd days for the names to register.
To my astonishment, most of my classmates turned out to be the IIT-reject, Stephen’s-reject material…just like me, so I had company, and solace… and obviously acted as though the grapes were ACTUALLY sour. (Ok, no more reminding that we didn’t make it through to the IITs…it’s a bad dream for us at SRCC)

The first three odd afternoons were spent exploring the campus with my hostel mates(this is the pic of the hostel, our new home), we went in groups actually, we dreaded the R-word (Ragging)…we heard lots of spine-chilling stories in the TV and read them in the newspapers…so obviously the fear-factor was immense. So our logic was that if we move around in flocks, the perceived damage done would be minimized. You’ll know what exactly we faced as you read along…it’s interesting, delighting, disgusting, nauseating, yet fun…and all to the same magnitude…you’ll also read what we “gained” from ragging (yes, we gained a lot…trust me!)

The author can be reached at utsavmitra@hotmail.com