As a matter of fact

It’s happening again. After three years of sitting tight on one seat which ten others (to say the least) must have competed for, I am being asked to vacate to let other (un)fortunate women enjoy it (if they’re lucky and stupid) or detest it (which will obviously stereotype them as ME!). Yet again everyone’s curiosity is liberatingly moulded in that question they asked me in the past and that will haunt me many a time in the future. “So, what next/now/after this?” And following a tradition that most of “my kind” endorses, I won’t pretend being confused because “I (actually) don’t know.”

Last week was officially the last in college. All Girls’ College to be more specific. Convent and All Girls’ College to provide maximum detail. And there’s only one of the kind in Delhi University. So yes you can gloat about your guess being right.

Now I’m not sure if I’m feeling any extraordinary emotion at college getting over. Hopefully, it’s a passive feeling and is consoling me by not occupying primary space in my head.

In retrospect, I think I have “learnt a lot” from college life. Without a doubt, it has taught me to adjust with all kinds of human beings and the very cosmopolitan setup has left enough room to explore into different psyches and settle with the best and the worst (and all that). But in grave practicality (and I feel so sad about stating this) I’m going to be learning this at multiple/several/various junctures in my life. So how about exposure and bettering your “talents” and meeting like-minded people? All this without having to worry about administrative hiccups and constant running around to get your shit sorted. Now that’s what I really wish I’d experienced.

Please don’t mark my exaggeration when I tell you that there have been days when I’ve sat under trees (which, at most times provided, much needed solace) and just observed women walking around in college. Some were dressed most obscurely, others inadequately, most well-groomed and the rest trying to keep up with the latest fashion in Sarojini. I’ve sat on the steps of the library (because for some really strange reason you couldn’t take your own books inside the library to read. If you have a justification for that, please don’t bring it up because I am not going to be convinced) and heard women discuss vacations they took abroad, and conclusively remarked on how Dubai was much better than England “kyunki wahaan ghaas phoos kam thi aur malls zaada the.” The next second you would see them shout out for James (?) bhaiya, our college’s official photographer who comes to the rescue of a ton of women who like dropping their heads back, making their hair fly and getting their profile clicked. “College iz funnn” and “My College” and “Memoriez” are the albums you should be concentrating on, on Facebook. There have also been the kinds who like being “in charge”. They’d always have a Notepad and a fancy zip up folder in their hands, holding important documents and “getting work done”. (There’s no harm in all this, really. I’m just describing the “types” and the “kinds”). There’re also diligent hardworking women, who manage to get a 5/5 on attendance (yes, Delhi University does have its own way of ensuring that its students attend college. All in the name of competition for five “free” marks). Then there’ve been the “nice” people around, who would help you, share essential information and tell you which Professor could be your potential friend because well, they’re friends with most of the Department.

I think it’s very essential to engage in routine viewing of shows like Roadies, largely rubbished by your parents and by the better part of your own brain, because it’s more about getting to know about the kind of clumsy and graceless people who constitute this society, which also happens to be your own. Now if you’ve caught an episode of the latest season, then I’d like to typify one of the “contestants” (It’s a shame even calling them that because they’re contesting for one thing and one thing alone, they’re contesting to be forgotten) named Prachi. She’s been upset for most of the show broadcasted till date because people think she’s “dumb” but she knows she’s not. I am hardly anyone to decide whether she is living in denial or not. But I’m not going to remain blind to my absolutely correct reading of the woman being really hollow, with a really peculiar emotional package and not being able to render declared intellect, when tested. Now I wasn’t digressing by indulging in this personality analysis, because hers is a kind intrinsic to most people I’ve seen wandering around my college campus. Opinions that don’t count but still have to be made vocal and the same voice, never articulated in during a lecture. Yet, they’re seen cribbing about the system, the way they’ve been condescended, the way the entire education system has let them down and the way are being punished for no constructive fault of theirs. This is the kind which has caused the most resentment in me and left this annoying acerbic taste in my mouth, because there has really been nothing that they have learnt or helped me learn.

There are various cultural societies across colleges in Delhi University, fondly called “Socs”. Now I don’t know if most of us have consciously engaged in knowing the names of most members of this society. Fact remains, that we do. And that makes them celebrities? It’s odd but, when most of them are on stage to display some talent or the other, a significant part of the audience will be noticing Aastha, Kshitija, Mallika or Pallavi.

“Xyz, woh choreo wali, she’s so hot man.”

“Hindi dramsoc mein hai na who Abc, usko maine GK mein dekha.”

The Fests have been the most memorable owing to weird idiosyncrasies. They would usually start in the morning and end way after sunset. But women would still come dressed up because the latter half of the day they had to go clubbing in the college lawns since it was DJ Night. Jobless for one, I don’t know how most of them managed to rope in their friends for all the “fun” that the fest promised. I’ve also looked forward to it all three years to be a part of some mindless dancing because any attempt to loosen up only has a positive consequence. But it’s been nothing grand, certainly nothing worth getting your hair straightened for.

On those two days of “cultural extravaganza”, some randomly picked up NSS Volunteers have witnessed high points in their lives in telling people “Entry band ho gayi hai.” and “No, you can’t enter from this gate.” They’ve giggled and let the boys enter the Auditorium and unnecessarily shrieked at Thirdies because “Entry was only allowed for participants (boyfriend)”. Kya trip lete hain log.

This college is a part of an undefined and self -proclaimed cult that more than half of the students have readily accepted as “best time evaa!”

I beg to differ. And even though I’ve had my multiple maddening moments of ecstatic joy in the company of some of the coolest people that the institution thankfully chose to admit, I still stand by the college and its sly ways of pushing students into some kind of really dangerous disillusionment.

Oh and my type? I’ve been the silent observer (to help produce this blog post maybe?).

PS-Subsequent posts will describe the more pleasant and polite experiences. Yes, there are many.