My Thoughts During An Exam

tw violence

please don't ignore this. students are beaten up at Jawaharlal Nehru University in india and police is not protecting students. instead they're helping the goons. nobody is helping the students. a lot of students are badly injured.

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Pearls of Wisdom

I was in Bangalore for a vacation when I met my newest cousin for the first time. He didn't impress me much, just a little prune-like tot who flailed his arms around and gurgled randomly. Since he was less than a month old, there was little I could do except peep in while he slept and then beat a hasty retreat when I inevitably woke him up and caused him to warm up his deceptively deadly lungs, thus effectively kicking the rest of the family out of their sweet dreams.

Schoolwork kept me from going back to Bangalore for the next couple of years, and the memory of Cousin Ajay faded into a corner of my mind for the most part. Hence, the next time I went there, I was greeted by the shy and energetic toddler that the prune had grown into.

Ajay, I quickly discovered, was pretty smart for a two year old. He had limitless curiosity and an incredible ability to memorise everything he heard and reproduce it when it was most irrelevant. Most conversations with him went like this: (Warning: High levels of cringe detected)

Fawning Auntie: So how old are you my poochy-coo? 

Ajay: Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. 

...

A few weeks after our arrival, my uncle and aunt announced that they'd planned a trip to Coorg. So we somehow packed in three adults, two senior citizens, one preteen, one teen and a toddler into a four person car and began the long journey to Coorg. The only thing we knew was that we had to keep to a particular road, and then follow it until we reached a place called Manchanabele. Coorg was supposed to be a little further from there. 

The trip was uneventful for the most part. Simply consisting of old people talk and Grandpa complaining every few minutes about the lack of clean bathrooms in the country. Ajay clearly agreed with him, since he decided that it would be a better idea to relieve himself on my aunt instead of brave those nasty bathrooms or squat in the grass like a peasant.

My aunt somehow ignored the fragrant stain on her thigh for the rest of the journey and I too managed with minimal gagging. Soon, my aunt spotted the elusive signpost saying "Manchanabele 1 Kilometre" and read it aloud for my uncle to hear. Ajay, hearing a new sentence, quietly repeated "Manchanabele 1 Kilometre?" "Yes Ajay." "Okay. Manchanabele 1 Kilometre."

That weekend passed in a blur. We visited a waterfall, spent one day on a safari, and I vaguely remember tiptoeing around on the lookout for leeches with all the paranoia of a highly strung war veteran. All too soon however, we bid adieu to Coorg and made our way back to Bangalore.

It was on our first night back in Bangalore that I realised I had made a critical error. In the week or so that Ajay and I had known each other, I had been so busy panicking about not being able to handle toddlers, that I had completely forgotten to introduce myself to him. The poor boy had been playing with me all week without even knowing my name. 

It was when we were playing Bus and Train (wherein Ajay is the driver of a magical vehicle that changes into a bus or train randomly, while my other cousin and I were passengers) that he decided to rectify this issue. So with all the innocence of a two year old, he asked me, "What is your name?"

Glad to get a not-awkward opening to introduce myself, I replied. "Kirtana."

He clearly had difficulty pronouncing it. So he repeated the question once more. And once more I replied, carefully enunciating each syllable: "Kir-ta-na."

Now he seemed to have understood, since he was nodding proudly. Having got what he wanted, he turned around to start another game, but not before uttering this pearl of wisdom:

"Kirtana. Okay. Manchanabele 1 Kilometre."

Go to Pakistan

This has been coming for a long time.

Many months ago, actors Shah Rukh Khan and Aamir Khan made statements about how India is no longer a safe place to live. Their statements were met with a wave of indignant bleating and comments urging (read: threatening) these actors to “go to Pakistan.” The recent Uri attacks seem to have brought these same buffoons out of hibernation. Armed with social media, they now choose to target Karan Johar. Who clearly has everything to do with these attacks.

The irony here is that the same people who so vehemently protest the cast of Karan Johar’s new movie have likely done nothing for the country themselves. Take the MNS for example. What are their legacies?

1. Covering people’s faces with ink (because logic). 2. Aggravated Assault (because the law is unpatriotic). 3. Campaigning for the removal of non-Maharashtrians (All Indians- oops sorry, all Maharashrians are my brothers and sisters…). 4. Corruption (Patriotism is obviously about lining your own pockets while your fellow citizens die of starvation). 5. Pseudo acts of kindness, like building random temples here and there (vote gaining tactics)

Classic examples of the Politician species.

To recap: “Karan Johar sucks!” thus said His Thackeray-ness.

However, in my opinion:-  1. The surgical strikes were a good response to the Uri attacks. The last time I checked, Karan Johar was not shooting soldiers, so I fail to see any logical thinking behind the wave of hate directed at him.

2. The people who really love their country will want to boast about what a wonderful nation they live in. However, to do that, you need something to boast about. Corruption, poverty, overpopulation, terrible sanitation, poor facilities, and yes, even intolerance are problems being faced by all Indians, and ignoring the problem or pretending it doesn’t exist isn’t going to make it go away. The only way to make this nation a nation to be proud of is by addressing these problems and solving them.

3. And finally, to any bigots who think “go to Pakistan” is an appropriate response to this post: you’re only proving my point.

Quick Guide for Arts Students

Since students have to make a lot of important career and study related decisions in a few short years, I decided to make this overly sarcastic guide for Arts students. Hopefully this helps. Step One: First you must score less than 60% in your tenth exams, because in India, it is unacceptable to be a smart Arts student. It is always assumed that you are an Arts student because you couldn't get into Commerce or Science. Step Two: You must spend your entire time in the college canteen, even if it serves only substandard vada pav and soggy idlis. Arts students are supposed to be drop outs and/or "weird theatre types." Step Three: The syllabus will require you to memorise the birth dates of obscure scientists, because logic. This will kill all your creative genes. For the sake of extremely necessary degree, deal with it. Satisfy creativity by table graffiti. Step Four: You are an Arts student. Sanskaar dictates that you are not on the same level as Science and Commerce students (apparently), therefore 99% in exams is out of question. But you must still get 99% in your 12th exams. Of course, questions in Arts papers are very subjective and as a result it's almost impossible to get 99% in them, but meh. Technicalities. Step Five: Everyone, from ancient relatives to the woman cutting your hair, is going to ask you about your results in the 10th standard. Lie and say you got 50% so that you don't have to hear the standard argument of "Arrey?! Aapko 92% mila toh aapne Science kyu nahi liya???" (What?! Why didn't you take Science if you got 92%???) It's actually easier to bear the judgemental looks rather than try to explain that you might actually be interested in Arts and Humanities. Step Six: Become a teacher.

Chocolate, ice cream and kulfi are probably the only reasons God hasn't destroyed all of us yet.

Types of People in Buses and Bus stops

1. If you’re a girl, you’ll almost certainly encounter a woman who insists on talking to you, for forty minutes, about the rising price of vegetables. This woman can be found at bus stops, and if you happen to be there at the right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it) time, you might even find her with her pack, all complaining about the bane of their existence: onion sellers.

2. For the guys: if you are at a bus stop, and you don’t look like a wild teenager, you’ll probably get sucked into an argument concerning politics. Before you know it, you’re listening, with growing despair, to an inane conversation about BJP vs Congress, finally culminating with the decision that, of the two of them, Aam Admi Party is the best. Go figure.

3. Most of the time, especially in the evening when people are returning from work, you’ll always find yourself a spectator to an epic showdown between The Kanjoos Lazy Conductor and The Frustrated Auntie. It will start off on a small scale, and gradually build up to a competition on who has the most lung power. It always starts because Frustrated Auntie will give a 10 rupee note for an 8 rupee ticket, and Kanjoos-Lazy doesn’t want to go through the trouble of giving the two rupees back. From there it will escalate to an all-out brawl, with the remaining passengers either cheering for their preferred side, or joining in because “those idiots blocked my way and now I missed my stop.”

4. Without fail, you always encounter a bunch of teenagers who start having a serious conversation in hushed tones about someone else’s personal problems. These problems usually involve either a girl whose boyfriend dumped her and how “she totally deserved it because her boyfriend should be my boyfriend” or it will be about a distant relative and the gossip concerning him/her or it will be about “ohmygodohmygodVarunDhawanissohot!” So before you leave the bus, you’re completely caught up on the latest Bollywood gossip and you know all about the drinking problems of someone’s jiju.

Random daily happenings

So my brother decided to show off his artistic talents today. He made a caricature and proudly displayed it to my mother and I, asking us to guess who it was. I told him confidently that it was his classmate Jash. My mother, equally confident, said that it must be Shirdi Sai Baba.

The hapless chap turned out to be Ronaldinho.

…

Quack Attack?

My family appears very normal. I have a father who loves sports and crime shows and I have a mother who is obsessed with vegetables and imaginary specks of dust. The only thing (yes, thing) that disturbs this image is the nutball I call my brother.

Don’t get me wrong, in front of other people he acts completely normal. Maybe a little like a clown, but still normal. The worst part is that people actually respect him! They think he is a very responsible older brother who has to babysit his bratty baby sister all the time (never mind the fact that I’m sixteen). This is what he has other people believe. I’m here to shatter all of these illusions.

My brother is an idiot. Now before you start protesting that he is in fact a very intelligent boy and I shouldn’t be saying things like this about my family, let me outline a few of the more prominent incidents. There is of course the one where he woke me up by dragging me feet-first into the kitchen. Then there is also the one where he decided to show off his arm strength by grabbing my feet in one hand and my hands in the other and flinging me onto the bed. But the one day which stands out in my mind is the day he abruptly decided to call me Quack Attack.

He likes to tell people that there is a reason behind this ridiculously idiotic nickname. There isn’t. He just suddenly decided, ‘Thou shalt henceforth be known as Quack Attack’ and that was it. I honestly didn’t know what was going on. One minute I was innocently sitting at my table and doing my homework, the next he had graced me with his extremely unwanted presence and declared that I “shall henceforth be called Quack Attack.”

My initial thought was something along the lines of, ‘doesn’t he have a hobby?’ but I dismissed that thought and, quite foolishly, I admit, asked him where this sudden announcement came from, whereupon he began to laugh and told me that I had been mumbling those words under my breath. Now that in itself is quite plausible, I do generally mutter while I am writing. But I clearly remember doing my Marathi homework at that time, so there was absolutely no reason why I would be saying ‘Quack Attack’ under my breath. But does that deter him? No, he just ignores my logical argument and sticks to his utterly idiotic beliefs!

It has been almost four years since that fateful day, and I would like to tell you that he has changed and has actually become the respectable 20-year-old everyone thinks he is. But I can’t do that because, sadly, he is still as much of an idiot as he was all those years ago. Time has not affected him one bit. His affectionate nickname has become rather famous *sob* and even certain friends have taken to calling me Quack Attack!

To those who believe that I may be exaggerating a little, I assure you, I’m not. Yes, there are times when we get along, and, having put up with him for sixteen years, I am quite used to his needling by now, but still. In my case, the ‘tyrannical older sibling’ myth isn’t a myth at all! I live it every day!

*cue Optimus Prime voice* I am Kirtana Menon, and I send this message out to all those who battle the forces of annoying older brothers. We are here. We are waiting.

Re-reading the Kane chronicles. Am I the only one who just noticed this?

To Think I Actually Wanted To Grow Up…

My childhood ended like this: My father came home from work one day, took off his shoes, asked me to bring him some tea (his obsession with tea is terrifying) and casually asked me when college admissions begin. Naturally, I was not caught off guard and intelligently replied, “Admission who?”

The next day I was rudely woken up (early, might I add) by my brother singing, “Wake up, Quackess! Time to tear your hair out, beat yourself with an axe, and run into the wall head-first!!!”

Did I mention my brother does not sing well?

Noticing my less-than-subtle, bleary-eyed glare, he added, “Mumbai University Registration.”

I gave him my usual What-Did-You-Drink-This-Time look. I have used it so often, it’s become second nature. Grudgingly, I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. Three seconds after I came out, I found myself thrown in front of the computer with my brother grumbling under his breath. I managed to catch “can’t even register without me” and “stupid Quackess” and “don’t like Amma’s cooking.” I avoid giving myself a headache by not trying to figure him out.

I went on Google and searched for the Mumbai University website. I clicked on the link that appeared and proudly thought, ‘Oh yeah! Now all I got to do is find this form and fill it!’ I gleefully beamed at the computer screen until Akshay said, “Wrong website.”

What?! But it said “Mumbai University” right there!

When I voiced these objections, he glanced up from Modern Combat 4 (a game, for those who don’t know) and brightly said, “There are two Mumbai University websites. They wouldn’t be able to live with themselves if they made things easy!” And then he went back to ambushing “Bunnnnny” in the multiplayer mode.

So I went to the previous page and located the correct website. Then I had to open a Power Point Presentation that Akshay had downloaded to figure out how to fill in this registration form. Which meant going through 52 slides one by one. And of course, you can’t just minimize it. No, you have to exit it every time you want to complete any step, which means that after you’re done with that step you have to open it and go through each slide again until you reach where you were before.

So, obviously, after two hours I had a headache, my brother was in a bad mood and my mother was crying because “education isn’t what it used to be when I studied.” And I also realized that whoever had made that PPT and designed the website spoke “The Inglis” (English).

When I got to the point where I had to upload my picture and signature, Akshay gleefully assured me that this step would take only six hours, while rubbing his hands with anticipation. Until I reminded him that he had to help me with it. His face fell faster than I did when I tried skateboarding.

Surprisingly, the picture was uploaded without much cursing, at which point Akshay started screaming about how the system was biased. After that, the rest of the process went smoothly (or as smoothly as Mumbai University Registration can go) and within 24 hours I was done. Victory! The hardest part of the process done! Yeah!

Then they told me junior college admissions don’t require registration with Mumbai University.

……

Kirtana P. Menon