When students strike…

It’s a season of strikes. We’ve had the full taste of everything from dirty campus politics to masala chic fights and even spiders in meals (not mine!). To start with the beautiful MCM Chandigarh girls went on a total strike after one of their students was slapped after being found using a cell phone in college. The outrage was tremendous amongst the girls, which makes me wonder why they call girls ‘hot’. Mercury rising and the girls took to the streets. Dressed in sexy black it was more of a fashion parade than a protest (that’s for the guys!). The girls have demanded that cell phones be allowed in college, professors to apologize again and rules be amended to let them escape the college gates before noon. Now the last one simply came in from nowhere! But then why wouldn’t you want to fly away from those chains of continuos boring lectures and freak out!

The guys have their own way. Some student leaders down there in Ujjain had all the guts to beat a professor to death. Armed with heavy political support and all the muscles they built up while growing up, they certainly used their power to the height of stupidity. They went totally out of hand and cases like these must be fully condemned.

Meanwhile somewhere up here in Punjab, there were some other issues. Uncooked meals, spiders in rice (wonder if anyone had those and became Spiderman!), lack of basic facilities in the mess as well as very strict rules made the hostlers very angry. To add to the masala some first year students got together and beat up their seniors who tried to rag them. The hostelers finally got in a fit of rage and that’s when all hell broke loose!

Ragging Ragging hai rabba!

Munching chips and sipping cola during months of vacations after the board exams I seriously had no idea about how college would feel like. I’ve always had a very rough idea about college from the early days of growing up. Watching the young likes of Aamir Khan, Akshay Kumar and Sunil Shetty flirt with innocent classroom babes and poke fun at the professors, I thought college would be more of a dream. A place where you could walk freely, wear anything, flirt, enjoy spicy samosas and colas, shout out loud, misbehave in the class, get away with pranks and hang out with friends.

Honestly speaking, that was a total fantasy. One week into college I feel like I’ve been tied up to this ugly uncomfortable chair with nails coming out from everywhere hurting my innocent hips. The lecturers never arrive on time and the blackboard is always too messed up to be upto the ‘readable’ mark. The fifty minutes of each lecture sound like someone standing in on a small platform talking French to a class of sixty, all of them have no idea of what the freak of nature is shouting about and still keep nodding our heads in vain.

Harry’s Guide to College!

So you’ve worked up your way through the dingy high school classrooms and sweat through the three hours non-stop board examinations torture to finally make it to college. After another month of results, manipulations, responses, greetings and arguments you’ve worked hard to get into a college. Running after admission forms, sitting and waiting endlessly for counselling sessions, gulping litres of cola in the hot Indian summer but finally it’s a time to relax. You’ve made it to college and you think the tension phase of your life is over. Well, that’s not true!

You might have made it to college because your dad had connections, you had spare money in the backyard, there weren’t much applicants for the course you applied for, nobody else turned up for counselling or may be on the sole base of merit! Whatever be the reason, it’s a past now. Nobody’s going to care how charming, cute and intelligent you were in your growing years in the high school. There are better things people would ask and want to know from you. So here’s Harry’s ultimate Guide to College for you. Keep it safe, read it in the loo or distribute copies to friends I don’t care. Follow the rules and live in peace.

Classroom Musings

Bowed heads, glazed eyes and suppressed yawns. Oscillating between near-comatose apathy and boredom induced rage. I imagine the fan falling on his head, the rotating blades severing the top half, blood spurting out and brains splattered on the blackboard. I love brains. Almost as much as guts. Imagine holding a slimy, thick, translucent cord in your hands, with the partially digested contents of your last meal still visible, surrounded by greenish brown fecal matter. Imagine it covered in blood, spilling out of that large gash in your stomach.

Imagine your blood flowing out, covering the floor. Imagine being strangled with your own gut, the slime, the blood, the shit, that last slice of Pizza, all around your neck, or down your front. Tell me that’s not an awesome way to die. Old shit. I need more gore. Need to get my hands on some anatomy textbooks. The Catholic Church has a lot of experience in the fields of torture and sadistic homicide. Not to forget, the Nazis and the Japs.

All set for college? Eh!

The past couple of weeks were spent in buying expensive paper (admission forms), dirtying them up with low grades, attesting copies of certificates for no good reason and posting them back. That makes me wonder why we purchased those forms anyway?!

Though I spent most of the money on booze and clothes, a lot of the ugly stains on my dad’s add on credit card statement would be the forms and prospectus money. Stupid pictures glorifying the horrifying status of the colleges printed on cheap paper along with a one page form is called a prospectus! Let alone that, the whole form filling episode is an Aspirin buster!
Everyone feels for me at the moment. Friends, family, relatives and a few guys I dated understand that this is the most important phase in my life that will decide my fate. But I have a truly different perspective, as usual!