Misbehaviour , Mexican Waves And Memories Of School

For a long time now , I've been trying to remember when it is exactly that I took to writing. For it seems as though I always have . But then again , until perhaps I was about 15 , all my writing was strictly for my own perusal , more of a vent to my private grievances against the world than anything else... and then I guess , I began to find in it , something more than that , perhaps a sort of enjoyment in the words itself , and how aesthetic and musical one could make them sound if one tried hard enough. I don't mean to sound pretentious and I'm quite sure the results of my efforts are perhaps a little more than mediocre...but I enjoy it and that's all that counts I suppose.

Anyway , In trying to establish when I began writing , I was looking through my old notebooks and diaries and the trip down memory lane was quite pleasing. One invariably ends up remembering loads of little things. Things you surprise yourself by remembering. And among the many memories I found one particular 'thing' that I had written that reminded me so much of school and it's 'nice-ness' ...I loved school..those were the best of my years. And I think all my classmates..or most would share my opinion. So I wanted to post the following for posterity. Something that I think I seem to have written when i began 11th std. This is for all my classmates..I wonder if u guys remember this...???

Like a mexican wave , we rose. The person sitting nearest to the door had stood up. And observing his sudden anxiety to deprive himself of his previously comfortable posture , his friend stood up and so like ripples in a pond ,consequently , did we all rise . It was like stimulus and reaction . When someone stood up , the rest of the class invariably did.

Offlate ,however , the delayed reactions seemed to mar the beauty of the thing , making our beautiful mexican wave into something that resembled a plot by an ECG machine. And the blame was all to be dumped on the ingenious soul that occupied the important and life-saving position of the class sentry.The guy who was responsible for listening for footsteps of an approaching teacher , checking to see if it was really one and shushing the class into silence ,to save it from a fate equal to death...Lectures on discipline.

Well, one day he realised, perhaps by accident that we stood up only when he did and only if he did. (a lot of false alarms by other idiotic students trying to alarm us, by standing up all of a sudden, and amusing themselves ,watching us scurry to get up , had left us an extremely untrustworthy lot. And now we trusted only our sentry. Self-appointed and therefore bound to be sincere is what we thought)

Possessing a scientific temperament , and in a position to observe this seemingly strange phenomenon , it tickled him no doubt to indulge in a series of 'trial-runs' , for practice perhaps to make sure , he got the same result with each repetition of the experiment.

For crying out loud , he had taken to suddenly standing up for the sheer thrill of watching us all jump up...he was getting as bad as those other idiots who had tried it before him. But this was a different. Entirely so. He was untouchable. Even when he grinned and burst out laughing , the guys would curb their urge to let him have a piece of their fist and the girls would swallow the shrieking telling off they would have dished out to any other soul that dared try this sort of stunt.

But not he… he was the man.what would happened if he relinquished his post and ceased looking out for us .(quite literally) . Well it would’nt do to even imagine. Disrespect , according to our teachers , was manifest in our every turn of head. We were supposed conspirators in a giant conspiracy to shame the teaching profession. Not getting up and greeting them as they entered was a grievious crime.

Well, It was’nt as though we had to leave much to our imagination . Considering that we had bear the consequences of such “misbehaviour” on more than 20 previous occasions. The first forty minutes of a forty minute period devoted entirely to picking on each and every one of our shortcomings as a person (we’d each have our turn as the target) and collectively as a “bratty” class.

But we were like soldiers , sensing the end of a war. Much bloodied by the incessant battle and about ready to declare ourselves spent. We had two years to go and our youthful rebellion seemed to be failing us,battered by old voices screaming treason..None of us felt able to the task of dealing with it .It was too much to ask the most lion-hearted of us to endure. And so the boys usually resorted to pretending like they were hard of hearing and the girls looked remorseful and bitched about the teachers in their head.(and later quite loudly) and I, well I alternated between both , occasionally stupid enough to argue but I quickly learned that was futile.

“We respected our elders when we were twerps like you…” and other such assorted pleasantries formed a daily diet that we were force fed. They knew it was no use yelling at us or lecturing or anything and yet perhaps deep down they knew that we listened to their lectures on our miserable behaviour more than we listened to their class...(Out of fear...'cos the extent of our misbehaviour was directly proportional to our punishment..and that was something we had to listen out for.) So, well yeah…I guess you could conclude that people love to be heard.

The younger , slightly more zealous teachers , actually thought they could “reform” us . Boy. Were they in for disappointment. They conjectured that a little physical discomfort might make us “adangafy” (toe the line …so to speak). But that only made us more hardened than ever. So being asked to stand for an hour (sometimes even up on the bench …can u believe that…15 yr olds… The humiliation…The injustice) or threats to leave the classroom produce little or no alteration in our efforts to be model students. (for god’s sake they just did’nt get the fact that to most of us it did’nt get any better than going to school and persuading a teacher that we are too terrible to be taught…)

But on the other hand , standing in one’s place or on one’s bench , with little leg room and no place to squirm either , holding one’s 3kg math or physics book in one hand trying desperately to write with the other, was’nt easy. You’d know what I mean , if you’ve been subjected to it.

The dilemma of it. To rebel against the forces of oppression or meekly succumb to inhuman treatment. Not much of a choice. And therefore , did we hate our Mr.Smarty Pants sentry who amused himself at our expense at such high costs or what???

Usually , the memory of punishment would linger atleast a couple of days.A painful reminder in the form of a strained calf muscle or a catch in the stomach. Why the stomach…one might wonder…well that is due to human nature. See the thing about 15 yr olds is that when they are punished as a group the most natural thing to do …is to keep quiet for the first couple of minutes… then catch a comrade in suffering’s eye…and smile. The smile triggers a chuckle and this occurs as a sort of chain reaction. You catch A’s eye and exchange smile and chuckle A in turn catches B’s eyes and exchanges the smile and chuckle and so on. And in a while…you find the whole class is chuckling…Then is the transition period. About a minute for everyone in the class to realize that everyone else is chuckling… Now that is when everyone abandons all previous restraint. All hell breaks loose and the class is now in what is known as “splits”

Thus the culmination of a lecture on bad behaviour is laughter which in our teachers eyes was always suspect since it was always supposedly at her(his) expense (which it was ofcourse) and was considered even worse behaviour. And thus the eternal vicious cycle would begin again.

P.S: I have lived to tell the tale… I always had this knack of getting away with blue murder…attribute it to my charming and mischievous smile.:-)

Moral of the story

1)Always have friends who are notorious and horribly anti-authority (Vishnu et al buddy…that means you ) that means you always come off as a nice person , who might be a good influence on notorious friend
2)It helps if you are charming…Not sure if that is cultivatable though.
3)What seems torturous at one stage in your life , we look back on with so much fondness.

For all my classmates at school…(I think I’m a little high..) I love you guys.Those were great years. Surprisingly , I think of all of you quite fondly…even though some of you made it a trifle difficult for me…Jyotsi , kothari , smiths , abhin , pish , mags …we were a great gang…,akila and gang..i’ve known u forever… , lena , abhiram ,tommy,soumya and sandeep (our resident Romeo and Juliet) ...well it was fun… and to my supposed “ex-flame” ….you know who you are…lol…you were the class act in a class of class acts.., adarsh , nabs , boondi kunal and all the guys basically…thanks for teaching me patience and how to like assholes…it's something that will come very much in handy in a world filled with assholes...lol..Vishnu , visram …for being great buddies… And Mags for everything...you are the best....

God…definitely totally drunk…

Mi Primer Amor:Tenis Y Deportes En General

Guillermo Garcia-Lopez I salute you.Yesterday was a display of sheer guts , talent and amazing attitude. You played like a true warrior. Whatever one might say about the underdog and how he has nothing to lose and therefore can play his best game, it requires absolute courage and great temperament to play the way you did against Moya , a worthy opponent , if there ever was one . ( Although yesterday he did struggle , but maybe that's 'cos you did'nt give him one inch of leverage!)

Having the entire stadium screaming your opponents name , and asking for your downfall cannot but be intimidating. But for every shout of "Moya" , you whacked , whipped , smashed the ball so punishingly to show him and everyone else what tennis and competition was all about. Boy! It was so sad to see you lose , for you truly deserved to win...(lol..actually getting poetic..but yesterday was simply brilliant!). Ultimately , your game was truly gutsy , an exhibition of your awesome talent , and I was thoroughly impressed and consider myself an admirer of your style. (not to say that that means anything..but anyway..lol..). I'm sure you'll go places and I sure hope you come back to play in chennai next year.

Anyway , Yesterday was great! After a long time...I was so excited about something I was witnessing . I LOVE TENNIS. And I love sports. But tennis is my first love. Something I spent eight years of my life playing. And still do occasionally. (like about twice a year..much to my dismay!) . I can go into raptures about every aspect of it and I'm one of those terribly passionate sport afficionados. The kinds that will scream herself hoarse at a match...( although , never during a point , unlike some assholes who have no concept of how it distracts a player when you scream when he's serving or whatever...pieces of crap ,with no bloody sense , that think its funny ...they should be thrown out of the stadium...) ..

I love a good game the kind where every point is fought for. And the match is even. It brings out the best in both players. And the atmosphere is charged, electric even .(like this one really memorable time , when Boris Becker came to madras and the whole stadium was screaming his name , mexican waves and all...boy! that was great...although he subsequently lost...) . Will never forget playing a couple of rallies with Richard Krajicek and getting introduced to him by my coach as a talented young itty bit. ( I was twelve then , it was my life's high point..lol.. Damn ! those were some days...playing tennis , dreaming of wimbledon and school somewhere in the background...lol...bliss!) . Ok looks like , this is gonna be a reminescing thingie after all...lol...Just don't ask me what happened to tennis and the dreams...

Although I enjoy watching and playing many games , the one I enjoy watching the most is soccer (never had oppurtunity to play soccer seriously , just for fun when i used to play tennis and it rained and we could'nt use the clay courts..)...although I must admit that I am a tournament soccer fan. Only watch it everytime there is a big tournament , like last year's Euro 2004. and the FIFA World Cup and stuff.. (that's when the best soccer happens anyway , when people play for their countries ) and the occasions when dad's watching and I know the team that is playing..(well I know like 4-5 english teams , 3-4 italian teams and ofcourse spanish league.)

So yeah , Although I hate being a sheep , when it comes to being a sports , I put aside my uppity attitude and scream along with the rest of the crowd. There is so much talent to be appreciated. I guess playing a lot of sports or even only one, at any level, gives you an appreciation of the immense talent , hard work and sacrifice required to perform at such a high level , so consistently. And I bow down in appreciation to all sportspeople for that.

My Not-So-Pretty Predicament And Other Ramblings

My long sabbatical has ended. In the past month , although I have suffered no lack of subjects to write about , I have ailed greatly (and much!).
Writer's block (or wanna-be writer's block , as the case may be) is nothing to be scoffed at. It's symptoms are purely psychological but just as painful as any physical ailment.

You know you have writer's block :

1)When you , someone who probably enjoys being the opposite of laconic (whatever the word for that is) , can't get out a single , seemingly coherent sentence. And if even you do manage it. It is very far from satisfactory.

2) When you make as much use of the delete/backspace key as you do any other key.

3)When you attempt to write and the words simply don't flow , you stare at your monitor with a pained look that might make a neutral observer conclude that you are suffering from acute constipation.

4)When you suddenly start questioning the "point of everything" , because nothing seems worthwhile enough as subject matter...Or atleast you feel particularly impotent in terms of making it seem interesting enough ...as a hindi saying goes..(and i don't know too much hindi so forgive me if i write it wrong) "Naach na aaye tho aangan theda" ..which i think roughly translates to : if you can't dance ,blame it on the floor that is uneven.

5) When you suffer from PMS like symptoms such as extreme irritation, snappishness and moody behaviour all due to the inability to express what ,at best, might be termed ramblings.

6) When you feel you can totally relate to Joseph Fiennes in 'shakespeare in love' , in the scene in his attic where he just keeps writing about 5 lines and crushing the paper and throwing it into the grate repeatedly.

I wish I had a grate...watching the paper burn has got to be more satisfying than clicking delete.

Now, the thing about writer's block is , one is so dismissive of it (before one is afflicted by it) and one does'nt bother to comprehend it's capacity to cause so much restlessness and therefore discord. Secondly, one never sees it coming. No warning signs.It is absolutely impossible to predict. It comes out of nowhere , just when you have settled into a self-contented sort of writing style and it rocks your world. And stops it even .( if you would allow me to be dramatic..lol)

So yeah, I wanted to write about a lot of things.And yet, somehow I was'nt able to manage it. I had some pretty hilarious occurences (for lack of a better phrase....lol..i'm still suffering after-effects..not being articulate enough!) There was this one instance especially that I shall fondly remember for a while...because of what I refer to as it's high "hilarious quotient" .

There was this 35 year old guy(he looked that old) that we happened to share the same room with in a music recording shop. One of those places where you pay them to burn you really old songs, or rare ones that are hard to find. So , a friend and I were browsing through their collection and this guy was obviously eavesdropping. Which is really fine by me because in public one must expect for other people to listen and therefore avoid talking about things that you don't want other people to hear.

So anyway, every now and then he would make comments on the songs I mentioned or the albums and try and say something smart or clever..well , that is to say he tried. It was'nt smart or clever...but we tolerated him as he did'nt really mean any harm..perhaps a friendly soul who was just trying to be helpful. I think he took the fact that we did'nt ask him to buzz off right in the beginning as encouragement . And was trying to keep alive a conversation in which two of the three participants(me and my friend) were extremely reluctant. He should have got the hint. But no! he was trying so badly to impress us by telling us things like he was a DJ..(like 15 years ago..so who cares..not like I would care if he was one even now.) ...

And then he tried all sorts of lines on us , kept dropping names of famous people he knew , of how smart we seemed and how we seemed to have very good taste in music...(yeah right...he's the ultimate judge of music taste...definitely....we needed your approval buddy!)

And the best part was he did'nt stop with that, he just went on and on...about his life , his music taste , his doings..And kept asking us about stuff which i we usually either ignored or gave him smart aleck replies. I mean the guy did'nt take a hint...we were trying to snub him and then ignore him alternately...( I think pretending to not hear what he's saying constitutes that...), but he just persisted doggedly on. I really don't know what he was trying to prove. That he could interest a couple of 20 yr olds by acting 20 when he was probably past 35.

Well one this is for sure...we did get a lot of kicks out of allowing that guy to talk and shove his foot deeper and deeper into his mouth . If I remember rightly, at some point he actually so much as tried to hint about the size of his umm..'equipment'...I mean for god's sake...what a dope! He probably thought he was being clever and subtle...but he was coming off sounding like a completely desperate boor...lol...Maybe he was drunk (but in the day time??) Me and atticus (my friend) were so amused and absolutely dying from trying not to laugh in his face.(and i think at some points we actually did...and he still did'nt get it..pah!)

Actually, these wanna-be studs are the salt of the earth...absolutely priceless....so long as they restrict themselves to harmless trying-to-flirt and even foot-in-mouth stuff , they are hilarious to encounter as strangers...'cos they try lines on you that ...well..now is where I lose words to express how ridiculous they sound. Anyway , that was fun.

Then , there was my trip to fisherman's cove (which post facto is now suffering severe damages due to the tsunami and all that) which was nothing short of bliss. I mean two days in that resort and you can resign yourself to living there forever , perfectly contented. (Now, with tsunamis and things, i'm wary about staying 20 mts from the beach front.)

Plus there was christmas, which turned out to be not so bad. And ofcourse New Year sucked as usual.Well I suppose indifference can't fuel any sort of expression.So, that left me in the throes of despondency. Indifference plus writer's block is a sad state of affairs. (lol...)

So that was the tail end of my 2004. Now, 2005 on the other hand..did'nt have a bang-up start , and it's likely to be work , more work and still more work. And now, with all this work , I find that I am finally recovering. I write again. (the key part...i don't immidiately want to delete it..although that urge may hit me later..lol) .

How great and wonderful life is. When you have all the time in the world (theoretically one can have all the time in the world whenever one chooses...just measure it from a different frame of reference that's moving at the right velocity w.r.t yours ....lol.. too much special theory *, i know! ) you are unable to write even though u really want to. But when you are really strapped for every second , the words come pouring forth and so you put off other stuff to indulge in a hobby.

*Am currently wicked fond of relativity...it's the first thing in about a year that has had me animated and very enthusiastic about studying.

Anyway, I think for a sort of come-back , this will have to do. (The author pats her own back and welcomes herself back) . Hopefully no relapses are on the chart. And to all fellow sufferers , my sincere sympathy. I hope you get well soon.