IN 2 SIX ZEROES ONE ONE TWENTY TEN

Here I am after hitting another one of those writers’ blocks where you just cannot step ahead of that first paragraph. So I have decided to do away with all the formalities of themes and just chat.

It is New Year time; that time of the year when most of us are enjoying vacations and trying our best to be “happy”. My sarcasm here is probably unjustified. The reason- The pursuit of happiness may last a whole lifetime but that is no reason to drop your shoulders and thereby demoralize others around you. In short, be happy, man! Somebody tell me that.

New Year time is also that time of the year when an Aamir Khan movie hits the screens across the country. This time on it was 3 Idiots. With its remarkable reviews and humongous collections in only 4 days of its release, I just had to head for the multiplex as soon as possible. Kindly mind the use of multiplex here instead of what maybe would/should have been cinema hall.

I was not very impressed by the trailers of the movie. Somehow dancing around wildly and making faces just did not suit Aamir. My take was that if he pulled this one off like his last 6-7 super-duper hits, then he is one heck of a genius. Well, he did and seriously, hats off! Though, there were a few minor flaws. First of all there was an unnecessary attempt to insert deliberate emotions. The film has been interspersed with bursts of over acting and obvious artificial laughter and tears. It also seems as though Aamir Khan was still in the hangover from Taare Zameen Par and the Rajkumar Hirani in his creation, the Munnabhai series. Talking of Hangovers, god only knows how The Hangover got such an incredible response from viewers in India with its stereotyped storyline. Maybe the same explanation shall hold for Wanted being a hit and Delhi6, a flop.

The crux of 3 Idiots however, is the thing to be taken home. As we shout ourselves hoarse complaining about our defective or rather our useless education system, the movie has thrown a solution right at our faces. Teachers! Kindly teach better, generate interest and students! If you’re still not interested then please find your suited path. I myself am in the same pursuit at the moment and hence am more than willing to testify the bottom-line of the movie. You will not do it well unless you enjoy it.

You must be wondering why I have hit the good old concept of adapting and trying to enjoy the job at hand, for a six. I believe these notions are better limited to books or perhaps I simply lack that ability. But with the limited knowledge that I have of the subject in my blood, physics, I have learnt that whenever the frequency matches the natural frequency, it resonates. Resonance can be further clarified with the examples of Sachin Tendulkar, Shreya Ghoshal and a horde of satisfied people including my idol, Harsha Bhogle.

An argument which is quite often presented in favor of the education system is the fact that Indians are doing so well in America. I can only laugh at that. We are simply mocking ourselves by saying that. Those NRIs who have done well actually fled the country for good, thereby escaping the agonies of the system and have thereafter, thrived. But we leave no stones unturned in taking the credit. Remember what SRK had said in Swades? “जब भी हम दौड़ में पिछड़ने लगते हैं, हम अपने संस्कृति की दुहाई देते हैं”.

Anyway let’s change this controversial topic and get back to Harsha Bhogle. No prizes for guessing my dream job now. But there were a few fingers pointed at him for his re-grown hair. Did he have to do it? I say why not? Actually the fairness cream issue will be better suited for this discussion. They say that the fairness cream ads promote racism on the basis of color. Come on! Let’s face it. Not many will like it but, the fairer skin is arguably the more attractive one. Just like everyone wants to be rich, many want to be attractive too. At least in the fairer sex, they want to. That is nature’s law. Well, human beings through engineering have learnt how to defy nature and acquire what has not been given. One of those engineering products is called fairness cream and in order to sell, it needs to be advertised. And if these ads do promote racism then I apologise but racism is in our tradition. Otherwise we would not have been praying for fair babies and would not be obsessed for ‘Gori Bahus’. In similar lines men too can turn fair and also get back their hair. I wonder why I am so feeling so insecure about the hair issue?

Responding to all the criticism regarding length, I should end this now. But how can I leave out cricket? Whoops! Does that mean this is just halftime? Let us see. I will pick up the most burning topic in cricket off late- ‘The future of test cricket’. In the most polite manner I would like to say that test cricket, I am sorry, has no future. That is, if we continue to have test matches like the one recently concluded between India and Sri Lanka in Ahmedabad. I do not think there are many of my prototypes in this world and hence would like to clarify. Scores of 400, 500 and 700 in respective innings without a result will certainly not help the cause. Aren’t low scoring test matches more interesting? India vs New Zealand 2002, the scores were 99, 94, 200 odd and 150. It was over in 3 days and was full of excitement. Despite all this, it is quite a shame that the ICC keeps poking it’s nose whenever there is a unique pitch. A dug up pitch at Mumbai attracted far more eyeballs than a dead rubber, flat as pancake pitch at Chennai, in spite of Sehwag’s Triple ton. Leave the flat wickets for the ODIs and T20s, in which there is no shortage of demand for the same.

Finally I would like to wish all my readers a very Happy New Year. Mind you, it’s a very small “ALL”. Though I do not believe in resolutions, I will still take one, inspired purely by 3 Idiots. Let us all do more of what we really enjoy and want from the core of our hearts.

“I will watch more cricket and travel more often in trains.”

A little more of patience required folks! Just an afterthought! Did I just say trains? New Year time, by the way, is also that time of the year when the Indian concept of punctuality is redefined at blown up proportions. It was just the first day of fog today and four trains have collided with each other in two separate incidents. Most trains in Northern India have been delayed by durations sufficient for a couple of return trips. The little mysteries and surprises in store with the Indian railways makes me its fan, but this mysterious problem certainly does not. The country which has the earliest evidence of existence of universities and education and also produces the top notch scientists in the U.S., is currently failing to come up with a solution to this annual problem.

I know the answer to this statement of mine. “Why don’t you come up with a solution?”

Ladies and Gentlemen! I am pleased to announce that it is now formally over. I congratulate myself to have restricted myself to exactly two pages. Now let us blissfully go… INTO 00:00:00 1/1/2010.

THE RAGE OF RAG

Almost eighteen years into this world and it was finally time for the eagerly awaited college life. Umm…awaited until that point all right, but when it comes to action stations then the scenario changes somewhat. Enter the fear factor. Well, let’s see; new life- adjustable; new roommates- adjustable; Mess food- yuck!, but I need to slim down anyway; new seniors- errr…excuse me? ; RAGGING- No thank you! (& he faints thereafter…)

Well, there is no such option of ‘none of the above’ in this case. So I had made a positive mindset and prepared myself for the worst.

As we stepped in to the MNNIT premises in the form of its 46th batch, there were no stones left unturned from the side of the administration to protect us from ragging. The first and probably the most comprehensive step was to impose a white uniform as in school. This was supposed to give us a distinct identity and hence protect us from getting camouflaged in the sea of seniors. Our hostel, The Tagore Hostel was already well isolated from the main campus. What else, we had 2 guards at our disposal 24X7. Two for 500 of us, that is.

As we took our first official steps into institute campus in the form of a humongous white line, it took us no time to realize that some of the stones had not been turned properly. The orientation process was pretty clean but the anti-ragging committee meeting with us was not. The committee proved to be contrary to its name. There instructions- just keep your head down(as per rule-watch 3rd button of shirt), wish every senior you come across and address them as sir and ma’am respectively, answer every question he asks, get a military haircut, keep your notebooks in an MNNIT folder and by doing all this, stay safe. Moral of the story-get officially ragged and avoid the unofficial one.

On our way back that Monday evening, we witnessed the ground reality. Thousands of seniors had lined up the path to our hostel and started a pandemonium. We heard abuses from all corners, the dirtiest of them. They forced all of us to keep our heads down and wish them. “Good Evening Sir!” We responded in unison. After that they started handpicking the defaulters. “M**********r where’s your white uniform, were you expecting us to parcel one to you?” , there was victim no. 1. “Son of ***** who asked you to look up, trying to be brave eh? You do that again and I’ll have your eyeballs snatched out.” We were just about to reach the exit gate when one of them approached me. “Where are you from bloody ba****d?” I kept mum. I didn’t even know he was addressing me. How am I supposed to, with my eyes fixed on the concrete path with grass growing through the crevices? “I am asking you, As****e. Are you deaf?” I suspected that it was me who was under the scanner. I quickly replied-“I am sorry sir”. I couldn’t quite understand his next question and hence apologized again, and guess what? He let me go. That was when I realized the power of the word sorry.

Next morning everybody was ready with white uniforms which we had outgrown. It took us some struggle, but we also managed the military cuts and were on our way. Yet again, we were greeted by those familiar abuses. But this time on, I made ample use of my new weapon. “Head down Damn It”-“Sorry Sir”… “Who will wish, idiot?”-“Sorry Sir”… “What’s your name?”-“Sorry Sir”… “Sorry’s your name, dog?”… “Sorry Sir”. It was not fool proof, but it worked as long as I needed it, i.e. Day 3- Wednesday. That was the day when one of us decided that he had had enough, and took the extreme step. We were stunned. The seniors were petrified. Though they were in the clear, the media was quick to point fingers at them.

Well, this was a blessing in disguise for us. No more abuses, no more fear and we had even started breaking the line. Our way of looking at this was that the lad had given too big a sacrifice for the rest of the batch. Although the seniors were quiet, we could tell from their eyes that this was the silence before the storm.

Things settled down to normal after a couple of weeks. The seniors started taking a few risks again and this certainly was not good news for us. We witnessed the next stage of ragging during our preparations for the Fresher’s party. We were like on the house commodities for the seniors. Anybody could catch hold of us in the auditorium and make us do anything. Some were made to act like crows and some like eunuchs. I was a bit lucky in this though. The senior who seized me, forced me to abuse his friend, who in turn returned favor. So I ended up putting them at loggerheads. Not that I was spared. I was then asked to criticize a senior dance instructor’s skills. Well, had there not been such stringent rules, I would have certainly had my first slap from a female.

The final stages of ragging took us to a higher level. Only some unfortunate ones witnessed them. It included get togethers(G.T.) of groups divided on the basis of states and cities of origin and then a group humiliation of the same. Worse than the G.T.’s were the Room Calls in which we freshers were hailed to their seniors’ rooms on a pure draw of luck or bad luck rather. After that, we were totally under the mercy of our seniors. They would make us dance, sing, interview us and grab any possible chance to abuse us for fun. I was the unfortunate scapegoat, twice.

Well, before we could realize that we were in college, a year had already passed by. The tides had pretty obviously changed. We were seniors now and the honors were ours. We had to avenge at least as much as we had ourselves faced. Such was the level of excitation regarding the prospect of ragging our juniors that we had already started practising from the end of first year. Me and one of my friends used to target the resident dog of our hostel. The poor guy was always woken up from his peaceful sleep and fled after getting irritated.

It was finally the first day of second year and about time too, as our patience had started running out. Well, our batch decided to play it safe on the inaugural day owing to all the security beef up and all those talks about a Supreme Court ruling against ragging. So on Tuesday evening a majority of our batch and some of the third years gathered near the Students Activity Centre (SAC) complex after classes, as the first years’ line took that route.

As the line approached, memories of the year that was, had started flashing. All those abuses and taunts were haunting our minds. Everybody was vigilantly scanning each and every rookie in town to shortlist any defaulter or stud or anybody who drew attention. We had started revising all the abuses in our dictionary. Please take note that anybody who knows me must have already guessed that I would not quite have been a part of the collective ‘we’ I am talking of. I was an apprehensive chicken and hence limited myself to inside my hostel premises.

It was already 8 pm and there were no signs of those who had ventured out to officially open the gates of seniority for our batch. My roommate and several of my friends were missing too. We, the survivors had a bad feeling which was only boosted up when we saw a few cars parked in front of the SAC. Well, something was definitely wrong and wrong big time.

It was almost 9 pm when they finally returned, in groups, disgusted, depressed and distraught. Most of them were had verbal abuses all over their tongues. Most of them avoided dinner and went straight to bed. We soon learnt that a really big and bad incident had just marked itself in the pages of MNNIT history.

The SAC Massacre:

There were about an uncharacteristic 150 people in the SAC that evening. Of that figure, only 33% were there with menacing intentions. Most had come for their evening tea, some for genuine purchasing and a few were just attracted to the crowd as is the case in India. No sooner than the first abuse could be delivered, a few final years forced everyone inside the SAC premises citing their safety as a reason. Before anyone could comprehend the scenario, the gates were already shut. Very soon a few cars vroomed in and in came the director, the chief warden and a horde of senior faculty members. They wasted no time and the students were asked to surrender their I-cards, their mobiles were confiscated and then started the characteristic faculty lecture. It very soon transformed into a violent scolding, then into a virtual encounter where dirty abuses and threats were soaring all around the SAC premises. There was no escape. Some tried to allure the canteen owner into their side by concealing the I-cards in his custody. But they too were caught and were looking deeper down the barrel. One of the villainous and shrewd professors also warned them of having to spend the night behind the bars. Nobody would have even imagined that they would be in tears at the age of 20. In 1919 General Dyer did it for the Britishers and unfortunately today, many a Dyers have conquered the nooks and corners of India. Happy Independence Day!

That was a night of embarrassment for many, dejection for most and furor for some. My roommate was one of the innocent ones who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wouldn’t talk and went to bed early. The drama was still not over. There were now rumours of a junior being kidnapped into a senior hostel. So the faculty members were now investigating individual rooms and abusing students for watching movies and not standing up to wish them. With two crammed into a space for one, I guess he expected us to stand on the bed or probably his damn head, a head which they claim has a lot of knowledge; huh!...in their dreams.

One thing that black Tuesday had clearly indicated was the end of the ragging era in our college. We were now scared of even looking at the juniors while they enjoyed the freedom of their lives. No sweat-soaked white dresses, no looking down, no wishing and most importantly no fear. They made the most of that while my batch mates struggled to reclaim their identities which were in those frozen cards. The guys had to hail their parents from as far as Mumbai and Chennai to face the worst humiliations of their parenthood. Well, as that session progressed, the interactions did get on way with the 2008ers, but it lacked the intensity and affability.

The world is round and it was time for yet another batch to script an influx to the top-notch NIT. Only that this time nobody jeopardized their wellbeing. We kept a special eye open to make sure that none of the second years even thought of any notoriety as they had lost their rights to do so. Encore Freshers Freedom it was, as this batch also enjoyed the new ‘clean’ environment inside the campus. The sins of 2007 were the trends of 2009. They wore woodland shoes, flaunted their a-la-mode mobiles and chatted with us like their long lost brothers. While our hostels continued to rot, thousands of rupees were drafted in to set up large anti-ragging hoardings with the infinite consequences enumerated.

As I sit about and complain, I realize that I can do nothing but this. The irony is that some of the super seniors had also said a similar thing-
“You don’t know what ragging is. All that you are facing is a mole in front of the mountain we had encountered. We had to go to the extent of stripping.”
So at the end of the day one has to accept the fact that ragging was the wrong way to the right end. It may instill self-confidence in the guy sooner or later but maybe that’s a matter of choice and need not be imposed. Hence it had been on the decline in the last few years. Criminalizing it may be a bit too harsh, but I guess if it has killed, then that is the status it deserves. So let us all bid a farewell to the pre-college blues. Finally, it seems like our batch’s’ injustice shall remain uncompensated for, i.e. we were the “raggee” but never the “ragger”. Well, we will have to take heart from the hope that there will be a time in the near future when the juniors will start ragging the seniors and we escaped that.