Life theory #2

(For life theory #1, click here.)

Last semester was horrible (this one's worse, but that's a story for another time). There was shitloads of work, and the end semester exams were absolute disasters. So to get over the calamity that had been the past six months, me and S decided to do our (by now almost customary) end-semester shenanigans involving contraband, the night after the last exam. We got a nice big fat one rolled and were generally content with ourselves. Unfortunately, the exams had taken a toll on S and she fell asleep. I could not, of course, let a good thing go to waste. So after a few futile attempts to wake her up, I had to pick another partner in crime. Now G does not involve herself in shenanigans of this kind. But she is a nice enough friend to give me company when I do. So we sat out on the terrace while the stick at the end of my mouth burned out. At some point, the conversation tuned to something like this:

Me: X has a very pretty face.
G: Indeed.
Me: And very nice hair.
G: Hm.
Me: That's not really fair.
G: Say what?
Me: I mean, she doesn't deserve it. If I had my way, I'd like to live in a world where people only get what they deserve. And what they deserve should be based on how intelligent they are. And X is not intelligent. She is, in fact, the complete opposite of that. And by intelligent, I don't mean book smart.
G: Hold up. So you're proposing a world where only smart people are good looking?!
Me: Yes, that's how it should be! Attractive people get what they want. That should not happen if they are dumb. Dumb people do not deserve to look good, that's not right. In my ideal world, attractiveness would only be bestowed upon those truly deserving of it, and those truly deserving of it would only be those who are intelligent.

I remember G laughing a lot, so I gather it would've been a funnier conversation than I can presently recall. That might also be because a lot of it hinged on me using X as an example, and G happens to think that my disdain for X is rather comical.

Now I realize this is a very flawed model. Although I think that for a person not fully in her senses, I did rather well. Its inherent failings however were pointed out to me by a couple of friends much later. A world like that would mean a certain section of population hogging all the resources, the resources here being intelligence and good looks. That part which had neither of these would be left to fend for itself in an environment of adversity, to say the least, since they would have neither of those valued resources to progress in life with.

But the fact that I came up with such a world, and in fact was ardently passionate about its desirability, gave me pause. I've thought about it many times since, in varying states of sobriety. And I've come to realize that I perhaps value intelligence above all else, sometimes too much. Much more so than other people do. After all, the first book I ever saw my Dad read was Edward de Bono's Six Thinking Hats.

A friend recently told me about a phenomenon called sapiosexuality. It had instinctive appeal for me. I can't recall a single instance in my life when I've been attracted to someone purely based on their looks. They have to at least start talking for my mind to assess their appeal. Only when I have some basic impression of their overall level of intelligence can I mentally process any sort of inquiry about their desirability.
MS Word lists "good-looking", "nice-looking", "beautiful", "gorgeous", "striking", "eye-catching", "smart" and "pretty" as synonyms for "attractive". Only one out of those eight relate to the mind, and that itself is debatable. To me, it's extremely unfortunate that societal constructs today make it impossible to divorce something as subjective as attraction from pure physical appearance. But while that may be so, it's not enviable to possess an inherent condescension of people who're not all that smart. For instance, I'm almost physically incapable of carrying on any form of prolonged conversation with people below a certain level of intelligence. It's agonizing to make that effort. It deeply saddens me when I make a witty joke and certain people don't understand it, but as a consequence, I immediately start looking down on those people.

There are many qualities one can possess which make them a "good person", or someone others tend to like. Kindness, helpfulness, generosity, love. The weird thing is, I can forgive the absence of all of them, as long as someone is intelligent. I have no qualms being close friends with a person who doesn't donate to charity or feel for the poor, or even someone who steals an occasional twenty rupee note from my wallet, as long as I can make intelligent conversation with them. This raising of the quality of the human brain to a pedestal worthy almost of worship, even at the cost of, and much above, other values which may be more significant or important, is unhealthy to say the least.

I realize that all this ranting sounds rather presumptuous, especially because of the inherent assumption that I myself possess very high intelligence. While I wouldn't say that that's necessarily true, I do believe I'm smarter than the average 20 year old Indian girl. And I'm open to the possibility that that is mere illusion. Unfortunately, this belief had long ago transcended from an objective, empirical fact about myself open to challenge, to an internalized thought stubbornly etched in my mind. It's like marriage, you suspect that there's something wrong with that construct but it's close to impossible to overturn deeply ingrained beliefs that society holds about it.

In other news, Game of Thrones Season 3 starts on Sunday! Life will regain a smidgenny modicum of the excitement that it used to have, before Seervai, Baxi and Nariman readings took over. And it will be awesome.

Top 5 Things My Brother's Wedding Taught Me

#5 That, surprise surprise, I am capable of looking pretty.

#4 That weddings are fun! I'm already looking forward to the next family wedding. (July, come faster! :D)

#3 That those who find love are truly blessed.

#2 That no matter how much you hate, despise, abhor, absolutely loathe your family in certain moments, at the end of the day, they'll be the only ones sticking by and saying it's alright even if you got a little drunker than expected at your brother's Sangeet. It's important to love them back. You may not be able to control the house you were born in, but because you were, you CAN control the amount the others who live in that very house dance at weddings :)

And last, but most definitely not the least:
#1 That someday, this will happen to me as well. And maybe, just maybe, that's not so bad. 

Change

About a couple of months back, a close friend told me I had changed a lot. He told me I used to be very different when I had just entered law school, which was a little over 2 years ago. It got me thinking.
Basically, I think the gist of what he was trying to get at was that I used to be much more uninhibited, more unstructured, more fearless. Care less. Do whatever the fuck I wanted. And now it's all about memo submissions, good grades and good placements. Law school's most vulnerable victims, unfortunately, turn out to be those who develop an inherent fear of project deadlines (and the like, you know what I mean) and are constantly looking for things to do, to put it in a very simplistic manner, to increase their value in terms of potential recruitment. Sad, but true. Life becomes a dreary path towards one sole aim, the attainment of what our (let's face it) still-regressive Indian society calls a 'stable job and a settled life'.
Yes, maybe I'm exaggerating. But I have a feeling he's right about me. I was watching a typical teenage music video the other day and it struck me that I think I've forgotten how to have fun entirely.
On the other hand, there's always the nagging fear that if I let myself loose too much I'll never get a decent lifestyle after college. I suppose this kind of mentality is exactly what he was hinting at. And the worst part is, I don't think most law school kids would have the balls to admit it, but this is exactly what law school makes of you. Balancing a life and good academics isn't easy.
I must add having fun to my to-do list.

In other news, it is Benedict Cumberbatch's birthday today. He is so lovely he makes me weak in the knees.

I also went to Nainital on holiday for about 3-4 days. Really nice place. We went to the nearby lakes and stuff too. There was this one particular one which I liked way more than the others. It was huge and nice and clean, mostly because barely any people lived nearby. I think if I could have just one perfect day in my life, it would be to go and find a place to sit on the banks of something like that and spend the whole day there with a good book and some music, all alone. That, for me, would be the definition of absolute contentment. If I could have that, it doesn't matter whether I'm in Nainital or Switzerland.
I also developed the habit of sitting on a little rocky ledge right outside my hotel (which was at a height from the main city) for a short while with my iPod every night after dinner. The weather was absolutely brilliant and the ledge offered a nice view of the Nainital lake. I love the way water turns black in the night. I remember walking along Havelock beach at night when I had gone to Goa. It was pitch dark. You could see the black water only for a short distance in front of you, and then, nothingness.
I have also realized that the perfect music for places like these is the In Bruges soundtrack.
All in all, a brilliant trip.

I haven't done any other traveling this summer so I badly needed this. Travel is something I don't think I could live without. I think I will always love it more than I could possibly ever love any human being, with the exception of my parents.
I am currently reading The Salmon of Doubt by Douglas Adams. People like him give me an immense inferiority complex. I always feel so small and unaccomplished-in-life in front of his comic genius. A long time ago, I had read someone's interview where they were asked that if they could choose one era or time other than the present to be reborn in, which would they choose. I remember thinking then that if I ever grow up to be rich and famous (*snort*...fat chance), and someone interviewing me asked me the same question, I would have answered the time of P.G. Wodehouse without even thinking about it. For one thing, he existed. For the other, it really seems like a brilliant time period to be living in. And people like Adams and Wodehouse, well, reading them is simply...orgasmic.

I'm also almost done with Season 2 of Game of Thrones. It is an E-P-I-C series. And I have officially fallen in love with Tyrion Lannister.

2 of my friends are mucking about in Europe and I'm INSANELY jealous. I know I've seen most of the continent before and it's only their first time, but it almost physically hurts, the thought of them being there and me being stuck here. I would give an arm and a leg to travel to Europe with friends. Hopefully someday I won't have to.
I'm going to stop ranting now. I haven't written so much without editing since...ever, possibly. Now I will dive back into the world of Douglas Adams to assuage my pain. And it will be awesome.

Aaaaand...I'm back.

I just took a look at the date on my last post. The one which actually makes sense and isn't simply random webcomics or lyrics I liked. It was March 28. That makes it about two and a half months since I last wrote.

The past two and a half months have been rather kind to me. Life's good, on the whole. And I'm not complaining. A lot has happened.
April and May were spent working on something rather dreadful, and I'd pretty much lost all hope, not least because I myself sort of lost the motivation to work on it towards the end. But the results were better than anything I could ever have hoped for considering the kind of work I put in. The details are boring and inconsequential. Now I'm faced with the prospect of choosing between two options, both of which seem to be rather good. You see, when one gets a reasonably high rank, one has a multiplicity of choices available. It's the rich man's problem :D

I also had a rather fun birthday and got a haircut which people tell me, has completely changed the way I look. For the better, they say. I decided it was high time I should pamper myself. And the people at the salon did a pretty good job. I actually look, if I may so myself, rather hot. All thanks to a friend, who knew exactly where to take me and what to do. I basically put myself in her hands. She took me to this brilliant place I haven't been to before, near college. This has helped me overcome my previous fear of such places. You can read all about that here.

Exams were, as expected, absolutely horrible. I am very seriously facing the prospect of failing in at least a couple of subjects this time round. I'm just trying to enjoy my life before the results come out and I die.
Also, I've started my internship at this law firm, which I'm actually kind of liking. It's the first time I'm interning at a firm, and I've got to say, it's not bad. It's not one of those big firms, so everything is a little more chilled out here. Plus most people are on leave and the courts are closed, so workflow is less. (Which is why posting frequency on my blog has now gone up, as you may (or more likely, may not) have noticed.) There's lots of other interns, all of whom seem to be rather nice and fun to talk to. It's taxation, which is kind of boring, but for me, being inherently a researcher at heart, nothing beats the joy of finding that one case to clinch the argument your associate is trying to make.
I've also started taking French classes every weekend. Those are fun sometimes, like the other day we were supposed to write a dialogue (in French) in groups of two, where both the people had been dumped by their significant others, but one was happy about it while the other was sad. Rather entertaining.

I am currently sitting in office with not much to do, passing the time reading random things on the net, listening to good music, occasionally talking to people. I'm in a room with 2 ACs, with a constant stream of cold coffee and chocolate chip biscuits. And I'm being paid for this.
Life couldn't really get much better.

P.S. You can now follow this blog by email! How exciting! And no, I am not ashamed in the least to admit that this is a desperate plea for more readers. So go fill in your email address on the little widget thingy (is that what they call it?) on the right. No seriously, do it. I'm watching you.

Of Babies (and my somewhat tumultuous relationship with them)

At the outset, I would like to make it very clear that I do not hate babies. No, I do not think they are evil aliens (let's face it: sloppy, messy, icky, have their own language. Just because they're not a sickly green in color doesn't mean we have to give them the benefit of doubt) put on Earth to foil humanity's plans of progress with their own cunning schemes. What I hate is the almost-universal assumption that if you have a vagina, you must love babies. Unlike some of my friends, I like babies. However much I always come down to referring to them by 'it' instead of 'he' or 'she' (just so much more convenient). As long as they're being nice to me.

Think about it. Would you tolerate a grown up person who has suddenly taken to rather hurtfully pulling your hair and stealing your glasses all the time? No, right? (If your answer to that was yes, please get yourself tested for insanity. Or (yay!) start reproducing immediately!) Then why must we extend the same courtesy to persons who are simply a little smaller in size?

I just think kids can be annoying sometimes. I fail to understand how their mothers handle them. For the life of me, I cannot figure out a goal for babies other than to destroy everything they see about them and irritate the fuck out of rational, sane people like me.

Having said that, I must also stress that the following events were NOT INTENTIONAL.

Going in chronological order, when I was 8, I dropped a baby out of a window. . It was a ground floor window so no major damage done (no trips to the hospital and the like, but that was perhaps simply because I went outside, picked him right back up, came in and acted like nothing had happened). And yes, it has been drilled into me time and again by people to whom I can feel sufficiently unashamed telling this story, that any mental retardation that this kid might suffer once he grows up, however slight, will be my fault. However I assuage my guilt by telling myself that on the other hand, he may just turn out to be another Stephen Hawking. But then I remember how Stephen Hawking probably hasn't gotten laid in a long, LONG time.
Again, I emphasize that this was NOT deliberate. Here's how it happened. I was simply sitting on the window ledge with the window open because it was such a nice summer day. For some unfathomable reason, all the rest of my family were busy and had given responsibility of the baby to me. If you think about it, it's their fault really. I'm the real victim here. I mean, who the fuck gives responsibility of a tiny baby to an irresponsible 8 year old?! And the little thing was so tiny, I was simply trying to shift his position in my arms and before I knew it, I heard a loud splat on the pavement outside. This has given rise to one of my rather infamous nicknames, aka 'window-popper'.

Something similar happened when I was 10. Clearly I hadn't learned my lesson. I was very fond of picking up my nephew under the arms and flinging him round and round in circles until we were both dizzy. Dangerous, you say? Fun, I say. After all, Mom used to do the same thing to me. Soon enough, I realized that that was probably because she was more responsible. One of those times a-flingin', he slipped out from under my small hands and fell. Thankfully again, no real damage. But this time I resolved to get my act together.

Cut to 2010, when I slapped a random baby at a metro station. Again, I must stress that this was not intentional. It was simply one of those busy intersections at Rajiv Chowk when I was in a hurry to get to college. It was a rather chilly Monday morning. Now in order to get to college I must put in a good 1.5 hours of commute, which means I must wake up at an ungodly hour in the middle of the night when it is still dark. And I cannot stress this enough, but I am NOT a morning person. Pissed off, cranky and barely keeping my eyes open, I managed to hear the announcement for my next train which was to arrive in a minute, while I was more than a minute away from the platform. So I made a run for it, with some five bags of luggage in my hands. Now under such circumstances, a certain amount of random baby-slapping becomes inevitable. I rue the woman in the burkha who had her son in her arms and was walking calmly in the opposite direction across the bridge which connects the two platforms. She probably used to think the world was a good and happy place. After her young son's head had finished lolling from my impact, her beliefs would have been shattered. My friends seem to find this highly amusing and in such circumstances, I am ashamed to admit, it is a little difficult to be as contrite as I probably should be.

More recently, I have been frowned upon for simply airing my opinions about kids in a metro. We were talking about how annoying babies are and how we might prefer puppies instead. Now there is good reason for this. Right next to us were a couple of kids who were reaching new levels of irksome I did not know existed, fidgeting relentlessly, wiping off their boogers on our sleeves and generally creating a completely unnecessary fuss. Next to them was their mother who was clearly incapable of controlling these two tiny creatures from Hell. Just as we were about to get off, she berated us for our views and told us that it was not her fault, kids are 'like that only'. She even scolded the only one of us who was talking pro-baby. And on the station we saw her pointing us out to who undoubtedly seemed to be her husband, in a rather contemptuous manner. My compatriots seemed to be all up in arms, ready to fight to the death about their right to freely express their opinion in a public place (a sad occupational hazard that law students suffer form), but I managed to calm them down and dissuade them from their death wish, for in a public place like this, the public would surely take the mother's side. In fact my own mother did so when I narrated to her the incident later in the night.

And today all this seemed to be a source of much entertainment for some gentleman eavesdropping on our conversation in the metro while pretending to read his newspaper. Moreover, this has led to many unfortunate nicknames that I've been christened by some of my friends. I repeat, I am not against babies per se. I simply doubt I'd ever like to have one. I just think I would be the kind of mother who forgets that she's left her kid at Walmart or on the changing table, or tells her young child to fuck off because Mommy and Daddy need to get it on.

Me, myself and I

This post is solely meant to introduce you, the reader, to me, the writer. Now I know that currently, the people reading my blog are people who actually know me, and hence know already all I am about to say. To them, I would say, get yourself something to munch on before you continue. Or perhaps even better, don't continue at all.

But a girl can hope. Someday I hope to bring in a much wider readership, consisting in part, of people who might not know me that well. It is with such motives in consideration that I introduce myself to you, albeit a little late (It is my third post, after all. Normally, people get over with this sort of thing by the first one itself. But then, such are the ways of yours truly).

I will soon be heading off to law school. More specifically, National Law University, Delhi. The last couple of sentences alone implicate how completely my life will be screwed over within the space of the next five years. Moreover, I would hate for anyone to draw the logical conclusion here and suggest that since I got through the entrance test for NLUD, I am intelligent. Let me make it absolutely clear. I am not. I am merely very VERY lucky. I had been pursuing Med School for the past two years, and had not put in any preparation whatsoever for the law entrances. Which makes it clear to my readers that indeed, all I did was get lucky the day of the NLUD entrance.

As you could have already sensed, I do not have much of a social life either. As if getting screwed academically wasn't enough. And I am sure that with three ten-page papers being handed to us every week once I enter law school, my situation can only deteriorate.

In a nutshell then, my life is pretty boring. And likely to get even more so in the coming days. So if I have not given you reason enough to discontinue reading this blog by cribbing about my life so incessantly within the previous few paragraphs, I would ask you now to save yourself from getting an overdose of my rather crappy life. Run, my friends, run. Arms a-flailing.

P.S.: I also have a very dark sense of humor. As you might have noticed.

Things you need to know about me if you're going to be reading this blog regularly

1. I have an affinity for long titles.
2. And lists.
3. Also, short posts.

That's pretty much it.