PORTRAIT OF A S'COOL' BOY

I was an average school boy. Not really the quintessential kind who thought school was all about studying; as well as the sportsman variety. Just someone who went to school, came back, listened to parents and led a routine life. But come high school, say Class 6-7, was when the word ‘average’ was not defined in a sCOOLgoers dictionary. This revolution normally hits other cities like Delhi, Bangalore etc only in college; or maybe in cities like Chennai where it doesn’t occur at all. But the fortunate soul that I was, the ‘cool’ maturity does strike the Mumbai glitz kids real early.

It is indeed strange because one can’t really define the word ‘cool’. The closest I can get to its explanation is just that it’s a culture or a way of life; one would believe to live in a few years time. Simply put, it was all about tasting ‘adulthood’ years in advance, or so it seemed. The transformation may be caused because of biology or an emulation of western society or both! It’s the time when guys finally start giving a shit about girls and proving a point amongst their own sex. It’s a time when people know you and define you by your persona, demeanor, and abilities to blow cash and in frequent cases, your public accoutrement or external façade. The more criteria one satisfies, the cooler you are. Having learnt about expletives, alcohol, narcotics and sex years ago now is when the freedom comes to use it shamelessly and prove your coolness. Not having done much in life myself, and my hormones running wild almost every night upstairs (and downstairs!); I finally decided to take the ‘cool’ route. It’s all about NOT being you, but what the heck! As long as it makes you popular and gets you the chicks, that’s all you’re expecting in life at that point in time anyway.

First, let me begin with the physical appearance. Having ordinary short hair is not the way to go now. Even though it made me look smarter, coolness defines hair to be like the actors and popular celebrities. Now considering I’m no actor or barber myself, I must seek professional help. Blowing three grand on a haircut at Hakim’s doesn’t seem a bad idea now that I’m on the path to ‘coolness’. What’s more? If I shed double of that, I can even get my hair braided and streaked something that will make me even more uglier, but DEFINITELY cooler. You see, having disheveled, long hair like Steve Tyler does make for some coolness that’s for sure. Now with my hairdo in place, jewelry is next on the agenda. Piercing can be really painful; but because Shifty does it, I must do it too. A bali on the left ear is fine. The tongue and lips can wait for a while. A perfect accessory for dogs, is something that must feature round my neck; a thick chain. Man, this bling can make me famous really quickly. My wardrobe filled with Fido Dido and Noddy shirts must make way for oversized Adidas and Fubu. Even the ultra-cool don’t really give a shit about shoes but I can’t take chances, so I buy a cool pair of branded footwear to complete the combo. I must admit branded stuff all over me does make me give an uncanny semblance of a clown, but I must look expensive to get the gold-diggers attention.

Being an inherent part of my life, my music tastes must change heavily. I loved the Backstreets, Britney and Himesh. But now, coolness defines them to be music for the homosexual. I still have no idea how one classifies music according to sexual orientations, or classify any music according to superiority when its hearing is so subjective. But then being immature in most cases is what coolness is all about. Even though an album of Backstreet Boys sells more than what Maiden have ever sold over the past three decades combined; adding to the fact that the Backstreet Boys are far more popular; if not even make better music, at least to my ears; coolness demands a compromise. From now on 2Pac, BTNH, Behemoth etc is the order of the day. Now you’ll hear music at home or in the car go….

You Little young ass mutha-fuckas
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
You fucking with me, nigga ?
You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the fuck up
Before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama
fuck you and your mother fucking mama.
We gonna kill all you mother fuckers.

Now the new craze is the guitar for some strange reason. Heavily clichéd, just because everyone is doing it I must do it too. Irrespective of the fact that there are other Indian musical instruments much more versatile than the guitar, it’s all about being western. My ideas about television must also change. Star World is the latest sensation to hit the cool masses. Friends I must watch though the jokes I do not comprehend! Now that I have realized that WWE is completely fake and completely wasted entertainment, I must switch over to Baywatch to titillate myself watching voluptuously and skimpily dressed women (or in cases, Hasselhoff!) running around beaches saving lives. Coolness stipulates the complete disdain towards Indian soaps, not limited to those by Ekta Kapoor; or for that matter anything Indian.

I have loved and admired Sachin Tendulkar all my life. But then, the cool junta now believes in Football and Formula One; both sports having close to zilch representation or interest in our country, even though the interest in other sports is appreciated. I find soccer a really lame sport, just kicking a ball here and there with people paying to see glorified stuntmen doing some fuck with the ball on the field. But now, considering I must be cool, I must have EPL conned by rote. The Manchester United v/s Arsenal battles can make for interesting (oh and extremely mature I must add!) fights in school. It also has dual application. Chicks usually watch football for the footballers and not really the sport, so it can make good conversation if I did know trivia about the game or a player or two.

Being really impressed with cars, coolness gives me the strong to try taking them for a ride. Even though I’m at least five years short of the legal age limit, keeping the pandu’s at bay is certainly not a big deal when you’re in Mumbai. The real experience of adulthood comes alive when a few lessons from some senior or dad gives me the liberty of doing 90 on the freeways late in the night. Totally oblivious to the fact that there are goons out there on the roads looking for prey as pedophiles or retards looking for make-shift beggar-converting hopefuls or just painful cops looking to earn big money by extortion catching juvenile delinquents; I ride carelessly with my cool dudes with the woofers at capacity creating an absolutely ruckus on the road. The quickest way to fame among your artificial cool friends I must confess. Acquiring alcohol and fags wasn’t the toughest thing to do, especially when you’re on the roads in the wee hours of the night where some baniyas on the road are looking to make some last moment earning and not giving a fuck about ethics. The last time, Sooraj had flicked two bottles of classy vodka from his dad’s cupboard which we enjoyed; but this time I had a few hundreds of rupees I took from mom for some fabricated school picnic which was going to make the purchase. Dope was too expensive plus difficult to personally purchase when you’re 12. Although, we had Chintan in between his third packet of fags in the past 2 hours; telling us fables about how his friends went high on grass in Lonavala one night. Very visibly untrue, but as long as it is true to the spirit of coolness, it’s never questioned.

Now school is the place (in addition to tuitions for the dolts!) where there is heavy socialization with girls (I was in co-ed for the uninitiated). Now in high school, and to the true spirit of coolness, one finally has his adrenaline pumping at the thought of women. Similar to the women as well, so it works in perfect synergy. But then, in school, a guy thinks with his penis more than his brains; so his options are much more restricted to the more visually appealing women. Being cool is undeniably about having chicks around you, and to have the prettier array around is an icing on the cake. Even here, the principle of women being loaded upstairs and downstairs applies! A good initiator of conversation with the ladies makes for celebrity status at school, if not one eventually ends up dating. Physical intimacy was pretty much an alien concept at that time, but guys in general would love to get their hands, legs, lips or any other thing on the precociously-developed, tender anatomy of a woman. Free porn on the internet or video libraries also has its fair share of credit for guys to think about objects to press in pairs at the mere thought of a female.

The simplest beginning to get popular is firstly, to get noticed! Undisciplined conduct in school makes an instant connect with the cooligans. It could range from not bringing books to school, back answering teachers, not doing homework to the more daring brand of bunking lectures and leaving school in the midst of class hours. The more severe it is, the cooler you get! The flak one will proceed to receive from the authorities at school is pretty harmless as long as the cool community has their brows raised at my actions. The simple policy that follows almost everywhere is that rules are MEANT to be broken! Academics in general (and in specific!) go for a complete toss with such an attitude. But as long as it makes me popular in school or with some chick in bed, I’m not complaining.

Now just because I’ve adorned myself and my actions to the loosest standards one can achieve in society, my thoughts and beliefs must not lag behind in correspondence. Coolness is also about an attitude that you must have, if not, at least a false external manifestation of it to make the complete cool packaged individual. I must in general be completely contemptuous towards those other mediocre assholes that are not cool. I must only talk to people who listen to my kind of music and consider the rest as panzees and losers if not gay. I must be extra sweet and modest with girls and flirt with them at any and every possible opportunity. Though, the reality of essentially being a haughty bastard must come to the fore for the negligees. I must always have my cool gang in my environs and indulge in making life for panzees miserable and ruling the school like there is no other. I, at every point in time must show myself to own a lot of money, even though I had none, to impress those who actually have none. Everything for me must be convenient, and I have grown extra lazy to even bother about the perceived nerdy things in life.

Now as I reflect on those jolly days in school, when I just didn’t give a fuck about anything and everything for the desire of becoming illustrious amongst my comrades, I revel today in this cherished legacy. I completely lost my individuality and was never able to define myself as anything else but ‘cool’. Being artificial and betraying my own esteem worked wonders for me in life. I didn’t really end up banging a chick eventually. My friends in those days of yore considered it a miracle I passed with 55.1% in the ICSE. I’m still hung on to cigarettes, specifically a few packets a day that I had introduced myself to, secretly in the public garden when I was 11. I had lost everything I had which, as a student, I would have been thankful for. I blew a lot of cash and a lot of parental respect in the fond hope of becoming cool someday. My purpose of being cool had really served me well.

REMINISCENCE

I knew I was late. I tried my best to reach on time. Getting up late always has fucked matters for me, even in the past. And I knew, it was also going to act spoilsport today. I left Sea Garden View at 12 p.m. sharp, in fond keenness of making it to lunch before 1.30 p.m. Besides, adding to my plight; I was genuinely famished and could have chomped through anything that could have been put in front of me. It may seem I’m heading for a time-bound wedding or a special invite to a celebrity’s clandestine revelry. But sorry to say, I was heading to eat lunch at my hostel mess! In fact, the mess customarily subjects you to the worst cuisine you can possibly imagine eating anywhere on God’s green earth. Amazingly all the same, I had developed an extraordinary forbearance towards it. But today was different. It was my last meal for a long time, if not forever, at H2 mess. The mess would be off for the vacations following which; I would have to be off with my baggage to H13.

I was half an hour too late. I entered the mess, panting like hell, noticeably hungry and thirsty. I saw the stacks of salad kept in front on me delectable as ever, waiting for me to be consumed. Lost in the thought of the carrot and cucumber, the vegetable kept ahead disturbed my tender reverie – “Get your ass here and put me on a plate quick, will you?” I took a plate and put all I could on it, and headed for a seat. I see, my wing mates, all together in the fourth row with a seat empty in the centre, perhaps wanting to feel my bum. I joined them, whilst they were in between a joke, laughing to their heart’s content. The joke quite obviously being explicitly related to the horseshit kept on the plate in front of us off course! I took the first bite. A current ran down my veins. God have mercy, is this food? I blinked my eyes. I returned to my senses. I opened my eyes. It was all gone!!

I was standing there, wondering in which world I really am. I paced slowly inside the mess. The manager, with dismayed vision told me that the food was over. It wasn’t special food by any means, but it was worth its time. The manager was alone in the mess, sitting on the remaining table and chair, eating away on some rice and pulses. H2 mess was not the same. The chairs and tables were stacked in the far corner and the mess largely clean and empty. It wasn’t the H2 mess I recognized and cherished. I had become schizophrenic for a moment. I left the mess, disappointed, sad and starving. I felt disowned. The place where myriad tête-à-têtes would take shape is reduced to a hushed dungeon of nothingness. Those mean seniors, who threw countless intro sessions at me, have all run away into the ashes of time. The ever ready mess workers assisting us in serving us food had, in their own way filled my tummy for a while, even though they weren’t there anymore.

I was finding the present tense and the past perfect!
The rough edges from the good old days seemed so much smoother. The mess gave way to the lounge. It felt sinister at first. It’s rather aberrant to find it empty first of all. Secondly, it was clean with all the chairs kept in an organized file. Nobody was there to receive a ‘hi’ from me. The newspapers, kept assembled in the tray for a change, were something paranormal. There definitely was a ghost somewhere, toying around with the hostel property. The fleeting creature even ensured no one was witness to his mischief. The music system was kept on the shelf, like in a coffin ready to be buried. The old newspapers kept next to it, intuitively inviting me to pick it up to clean my snuffles. The sofas weren’t seemingly alluring anymore, even though the dogs weren’t resting on it. The fans and lights were switched off totally nonchalant and blasé about my presence in the room. I didn’t feel invited anymore. A brief glance more was all I could endure, till I relented to head for my room.

The wings were abandoned. It seemed like a tsunami-prone area evacuated for impending doom. I entered my wing, the Frisbee ground to my back. The tranquility of the hostel actually gave me goose bumps. The cries of catching and throwing the disk, ringing in my ears, were acting like a seductive liar. The rooms from 12 to 6 were latched, locked or vacant, whichever way conveying the feeling of emptiness. The remnants ahead, were with heavy suitcases, on an unperturbed mission to leave. The place, so inviting for activity had been reduced to a desert of desolation. I entered my room, and saw Kartik’s stuff packed and ready to go home with him. I hadn’t even begun packing. I still felt a part of my home and didn’t want to leave so abruptly, even though I had to. Soon, even Kartik made a move and I was nearly all alone. Except for Ankur few rooms away, no sign of civilization in quite a distance. I packed, with some help off course, still in bewilderment and trepidation of what is happening around me. It was just yesterday that I could hear Sunmukh’s bawling and foul invectives coming from a distance. It was just yesterday, I saw a dog running down the isle, frantically trying to save his ass from a high-momentum slipper hurtled at him. It was just yesterday when Suchit came to my room to show me grimy videos of people at it in the toilet. Elixir was a team. Elixir was a family. Now, we fend for ourselves.

It is often said, that the world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to the idealized past. Nevertheless, it's never safe to be nostalgic about something until you're absolutely certain there's no chance of its coming back. I could never have loved IIT as much if I wasn’t in H2. H2 became a part of me whilst I was there. The thought of seeing it as a dilapidated configuration will always hit me where it hurts. I loved H2. I will miss you H2. Here I come H13.

MY BEST FRIEND

This is a short, rather bad attempt at poetry I made for Chweetu.

On 27th October, I met you, my friend
Who knew everything I felt
You knew my every weakness
And the problems I've been dealt

You understood my wonders
And listened to my dreams
You related to how I felt about life and love
And knew what it all means

Then I proceeded to hold your hand
Amidst mosquitoes, one night at the stair
‘Can I see your lines?’ I fondly asked
You obliged, in my embarrassing despair

Not once did you interrupt me
Or tell me I was wrong
You understood what I was going through
And promised you'd stay long

As time passed, we understood each other
You and I had so many secrets to tell
About our families, friends and life in general
And why orkut fraandshippers must go to hell!

I reached out to you, my special buddy
And showed you that I care
To pull you close and let you know
How much I need you there

With you, Chweetu, I felt very rich
Not because you are a turn-on
But whenever I felt stumpy or depressed
I had your shoulder to lean upon

I realized my pranks, comments and opinions
Has been a cause of pain
But amidst my deep, solemn regret
Together we’ve had so much to gain

I'd like to be the sort of friend that
you have been to me
I'd like to be the help that
you've been always glad to be

I'd like to mean as much to you
Each minute of the day
As you have meant, these past few months
To me all along the way

I'd like to do the big things and
the splendid things for you
And support you in your journalistic life
Along with your English and G.K too!

I’d love to tell you those kindly things
That I so often have heard
Irrespective of the fact that I never bathe
And have uncouth hair and a beard

I'd like to give you back the joy
that you have given me
Yet that were wishing you a need
I hope will never be

Memories send a tear down my brow,
Especially the ones beside the lake
Also, the one when I missed tiffin once,
And you bought me a Monginis cake!

In all my laziness, I try my best
But I wish I could but repay
A portion of the gladness that
You've strewn along my way

I know my academics are in the dogs
Life is fucked as fucked can be
But there’s one wish, that’s all I ask
Is that you be here with me

Always remember, I’ll be here forever
You know this friendship is true
Coz I’m convinced that the person beside me
Is no one else but YOU!

And to end this rhyme, on a lighter note
I know my poetic skills are in a mess
But trust me Chweetu, what I feel for you
Is something words can’t express!

Yes, it seems very plagiarized. But then, I didn't want it to be a lame one.

REFLECTIONS

I have finally decided to blog more regularly now; especially when vacations are around and I have more time to. I have also resolved to keep my blogs absolutely informal and simple and not too shady (except at times!) for people to relate to.

It’s finally the end of the first year of my stay at the hallowed IITB. Exactly 2 semesters ago, I had thought of life to be very different. I thought I had conquered the world after having passed IITJEE and entering the portals of the most challenging environments the world has to offer. I had also made great fancied great prospects about my performance at IIT, maybe even a branch change. As of my academics at IIT now, they are completely in the doldrums to be euphemistically precise; and has left me with more unanswered questions and food for thought than I would have liked on my plate.

We often dwell on the things that seem impossible rather than on the things that are possible. Similarly, I also say to myself that we are depressed by what remains to be done and forget to be thankful for all that has been done. We always think ideally about so many things in life, even when it’s kicking you constantly in the ass and we’re still not bothered. Maybe in the long run it does work out, but who gives the guarantee. Which prophet actually makes such general views about life and expects the whole world to live up to his trite, idyllic philosophies. I (and perhaps everyone else!) talk from experience people, things don’t work out the way you want them to work all the time.

At the beginning, I was really happy with the setting at IITB. The facilities were really good and I made some great friends too! I discovered groovy veracities of how people prepared to come to IIT, seniors’ informal intro sessions, mess food, lectures, squash, death metal and programming to name a few things. As the exams passed, I soon realized that IIT is a great place for the greatest to discover their mediocrity. These are people who can merely intimidate you with their presence, let alone their academic and/or non-academic prowess as well. One just feels angry without enthusiasm. Maybe the only test I passed that semester, or for that matter the whole year, was that I survived! I spent way too much time doing other unrelated things like interacting ad infinitum with wing mates, wasted time in general and not studied and paid attention in the lectures that I had attended. The courses weren’t as easy as it seems and I fell for its deceptive looks. The exams left me traumatized and scandalized as I had far less preparation than normal for those papers. My grades suffered and I ended up with marks not even worth mentioning.

Then I began Mood Indigo work over the vacations, frankly because I had nothing else to do. I thought maybe discovering how the festival works, getting to know and interacting with seniors was also something I couldn’t afford to miss, so I utilized my chance. I worked hard for Mood Indigo, being in multiple departments. I got good appreciation from my coordinators and that gave me a good feeling about my college fest in general. I had a great time at the fest time as well, and didn’t regret working for Competitions, Informals, Security and Assistance at the same time. It left me less rejuvenated for the second semester yes; but I had a whole new tenacity and doggedness in me to prove a point the next semester.

Before I knew what hit me, it was the same old routine start to the semester as well. Not paying attention in lectures was again taking its toll, principally when tough courses are around and the term being tough in general as its flooded with plenty of extra-curricular events. Techfest happened, and I was nominated as a compeer for certain events all three days of the fest. I had unfaltering decided to not engage myself in any manner with Techfest, considering I gave it all I had for Mood Indigo; but it was a tempting offer I couldn’t resist. Mercifully, I got great admiration from the hordes of fervent techies when I was on stage, which gave me an all-new high of doing things at Techfest, or any fest for that matter.

The moments of truth arrived later, when exams went from bad to worse. My name was among the esteemed and atypical probable contenders to be sent to the Academic Office for outstandingly bad performance in Multivariable Calculus. Other courses weren’t palpably far-off from the thwarting scores of misery either, which evidently left a scar for the semester left. It was all about saving grace performances now, with desperate measures calling in few courses. PAF also deleted some time with me working a few occasions but that would be just an excuse to state. End semester exams arrived and night-outs began. Somehow, in someway, I did what was to be done, not completely however. Papers as usual, by habit to be very honest, sucked hard. Passing became the only 2-way criteria as far as grades were concerned.

At the end of the year, I’m glad to say.. It’s finally over. I have 3 months of my own complete time to look forward to. Maybe dwelling on reality is what keeps me away from greatness. The times to take negative stress will temporarily come to a halt. Befriending myself will not work anymore, as it seems to be about opening my heart as a homeless shelter for all the destituted and prostituted aspects of my being that I have been running from for months without even knowing that's what I have been doing. I plan to do a lot of things this summer. Lets see if it turns out to be a vacation to remember…

THE REAL IIT

The Indian Institutes of Technology is another name for IIT, which is the acronym for Institute of Infinite Tension, Institute of Indian Technology, etc. These institutes of so-called national importance were set up by the Indian Parliament at seven campuses across India, decided purely on merits of political alliances of the ruling party. It was the mastermind of a certain eccentric named Jawaharlal Nehru to reduce the average intelligence of Indians that led to the establishments of these institutes. Just like Zion in Matrix, where 3% of the people who do not accept the Matrix are gathered together to prevent dissent as a whole, IITs were formed by the Government of India to gather at one place the 2% of the intellegensia of the country and dumb them down!!

The geeks and nerds of India start preparing for IIT-JEE just after 10th standard of schooling. A very effective test of whether a guy is fit for getting into the IITs is asking a very simple question: "Do you have a girlfriend"? A guy who says anything else other than "What's a girl?" would not get through the test. Girls are considered unfit to get into IITs, though some girls manage to get the application forms as they look like guys. To make sure no girl gets through the system by bribing to get the application forms, the applicants are required to specify their gender and affix a photograph in the application form. Those faces that resemble anything girly are not selected.

The entrance exam, IIT-JEE, is an extremely selective undergrad admission process (accepting less than 2% of their applicants). As they say, if the input is right, the output is automatically right. The six-hour Joint Entrance Exam held, as the name suggests, jointly by IITs, consists only of questions on Physics, Chemistry and Maths and not on other exotic details like Booze, Drugs, Crime, Pondy etc. which severely affect the quality of the incoming students. Since the Indians are well known for cramming up loads of information, questions in JEE are never repeated.

The IIT curricula is carefully decided so that there is no scope of learning anything. The students, then, take up alternate learning routes, most common being Pondy!! The IIT alumni on knowing the tremendous potential of internet, provided all hostel rooms with free and unlimited internet connection. The IIT administration tried to propound their agenda by putting lecture videos on the LAN, but this is yet to be confirmed as this has not been tried by any student. The IITians are also forced to eat mess food, that prepares them for the worst they can ever face in their life.

Some of the creative minds also make a quick buck by selling MMS clips online. Since there are assignments to be submitted every now and then, the guys also learn how to use Google adeptly. Photocopying centres are provided for every 100 metres of road so that time wasted in photocopying assignments is minimized. Lecture classes are held from 7:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. IST (Indian Stretchable Time). The club meetings that follow later in the evenings, however follow PST (Pakistan Standard Time). It has been established by years of testing that the time can be stretched to as much as 30 minutes beyond provided it is backed by a cardinal excuse. The summary and results of many such experiments has been documented well in a book by an IITian titled "Five Point Someone: What not to do at an IIT". The book also deals with complex issue of dealing with a girl in IIT.

When entering the IIT, a guy has two options. The first is to take up the common learning route described above. Since IIT-JEE makes sure a lot of mavericks are selected, many of them also end up being "happy among themselves"!! The girls in IITs, usually refered to as Non-Males and measured as parts of girl per million parts of guy, have to struggle keeping their identity as girl secret throughout their stay in IITs. Sometimes they are forced to tell the truth, like when a gay IITian proposes mistaking them for a guy. The alumni of these institutes have been very sucessful across the world (more in USA than in India). Most of them either get frustrated and leave technical education to study management at IIMs, or start a company of their own totally unrelated to their major discipline. There are also a select few who develop a fetish for studies and end up in institutes like Massachusetts Institute Of Technology. An interesting aspect is that, alumni of these institutes form the second-largest graduate student group at MIT, the largest being MIT undergrads and one day hope to colonise the whole of MIT campus.

P.S. And now that you are convinced that an IITian himself has written it, it makes perfect sense for you to conclude that the writer is jacking off watching pondy as you have completed reading this miserable blog.