How to impress a teacher - top 10 ways

Since this was mentioned in the comments to the earlier post, I thought this one could be a long-drawn out list of top 10 ways to impress a teacher in a Law School.

1. Be a hot person of the other gender.
2. If not 1, have a hot best friend to come with you.
3. Ask questions AFTER class (to be distinguished from asking questions during class, which often annoys the teacher)
4. Admire their baby (this has surprising effectiveness)
5. Wear low cut tops. (Works only for women)
6. Wear very low cut tops. (DEFINITELY works only for women)
7. Smile seductively.
8. Cry, but selectively.
9. Don't hesitate to beg.
10. Carry a chocolate.

It's surprising how often this works for other people. I haven't managed to use this to my own ends yet, which probably explains my floundering CGPA. But you have been warned! Time to get those skimpy tops out of the cupboard.

cheer up, messer upper.

it's time to inject a bit of life back into this blog.

so i'll keep this post short and sweet. think of it as an experimental venture back into the world of how-to-do-it-wrong, me dipping my toe in the water.

this is something a little different. normally we use our personal experiences to teach lessons about what not to do. it goes a bit like this: we mess up, we write about it, you read it, you find a kindred soul, relate, and hopefully learn a few things in the process. commenting is also really nice. really nice.

today, however, let's lift our collective spirits.
cheer up, messer upper.

because the lesson to be learned from the following links is simple, really. it goes a bit like this:

in all those countless years of schooling,
the memorizing, the recitation, the tests,
the lectures, the pop quizzes,
be glad you've never gone this wrong.

um, and if you have, then. well, i really don't know what to do about that.

so, without further ado:

for everyone, and especially the history buff:
http://www.leo.org/information/freizeit/fun/history.html

for everyone, and especially the discerning musician:
http://www.jokes2go.com/lists/list49.html

enjoy.

the gods must think we're crazy (or perhaps its all part of the plan).

i mean, really.

today - suprisingly, while i was busy hanging upside down and screaming my head off - i had this epiphany. the gods (or perhaps God singular, or perhaps no god at all but rather whatever is Out There, detached and capable of making this observation)...they must think we're crazy. completely off our rockers, loony, barking mad, and whatever other appropriate adjective you can throw in.

it is the only explanation for amusement rides, and roller coasters, and other forms of insanity that spring from the depths of our human i'm-never-satisfied-with-anything, i-want-more-thrills-so-i-will-turn-myself-upside-down-at-fast-speeds-and-put-my-life-in-the-hands-of-fate-simply-for-30-seconds-of-fun-most-of-which-i-spend-regretting-my-decision-and-screaming-my-head-off minds.

but where do we get to the how to do it wrong part? you might as well ask, why would a seeming sane person ride every ride in the park as many times possible, only stopping because time ran out?

well i'll tell you a small story, the story of a girl - a girl who was afraid of lots of things. and since we all know who we're actually talking about, in order to save face, i must say - not afraid of lots of things, but really rather a reasonable amount of things, things it is generally acceptable for little girls to be scared of...the dark, and water, and guns, and heights, and roller coasters - to name a few.

so let me begin.

1. don't drag your mom's favorite lamp out into the yard while you're camping. yes, you are scared of the dark but no, you are not old enough to understand the concept of electricity. you are surpised no warm yellow light emanates forth from the device like it does when it sits so prettily on the side table in the living room. you can sort of make out the cord trailing back towards the house, into the pitch black of the night. it has a thing at the end that sticks into the wall. you try to stick it into the wall of your tent. nothing happens. you are 4 - confused, scared, and trying to pretend there is no world outside of your little tent. by the time you are 13, you will have embraced punk rock, goth-ness, hanging out the whole night in a cemetery, and the general kick-ass nature of darkness.

2. don't scream "why are you drowning me?!? why?! why why?! nooooo!!!" as your loving and incredibly patient dad holds you in the water at the crowded and very shallow end of the local pool. you are wearing flotation devices around your arms and waist and holding onto the wall, but this matters not. as you look out into the vast expanse of the pool stretching in front of you - all 10 meters of it, you shudder. so unknown. you are 5. by the time you are 12, you will want to be a marine biologist (having given up on paleoclimatology, which nobody seemed to understand and which, you had gathered, wasn't nearly as glamorous as you thought it would be - most of the fun seeming to consist of drilling ice cores from the arctic). by the time you are 14, you will be on the swim team, enjoying sailing with your dad and going whale watching on the harbour. by the time you're a high school senior, you'll have taken marine biology and oceanography. you are building an underwater remotely operated vehicle which you test drive, operating the controls from the shaky platform in the middle of the pool. it is a 100 meter deep navy submarine test tank. you worry whether the water is deep enough.

3. don't - actually, no. hate guns, do. i think they're the devil - always have, always will. but by the time you're 19, you may realize - after a disturbing few weeks shooting rifles at balloons - that you enjoy taking aim, steadying your arm, and firing; you are satisfied to see that brightly colored, obscenely inflated balloon pop out of existence with a little bang. you are disturbed, but perhaps you will take shooting lessons; there could be something there.

4. don't hold up the line at the 10 story diving board. you look down and whimper, just a little, under your breath, as bright blue water spins dizzyingly far below. from the sides of the pool, your parents call encouragement. it is not reassuring. their distant voices only remind you exactly how far down it is from up where you are. you stand there for many minutes. the boy behind you is not happy, and he lets you know. you step to the edge and gather your courage. one, tw-. you don't have time to scream as you find yourself falling, the victim of a not-so-subtle shove in the back. you belly flop, landing splat! with arms and legs outspread - a bit like a parachute, just a tiny bit faster. it hurts like hell. but after that first time, you are not so scared. by the time you are 15, you will have gone paragliding and cemented your love of flying. on your list of things to do in life is bungee jumping and handgliding over the wildlife reserves in tanzania. by the time you are 16, you will have escaped out the window of your 3rd story apartment in all sorts of weather - snow, hail, sleet, rain. you find yourself in college, trying to figure out how to climb up the hostel walls from the outside.

5. don't spend $30 on a ticket to six flags. you know amusement parks are not your thing. you're here on a choir trip and following your eager friends, you walk slowly to join the long cue for The Volcano. the wait is not reassuring. as you stand there, you see the ride operate six times - six sets of screaming people. six sets of twists and turns and rolls. you visibly flinch as a burst of flames is punctuated by a litany of blood-curdling screams. your eyes are glued - you cannot look away; it is a kind of horrified fascination. by the time it is your turn, you already know when to scream and when to pray. your eyes will definitely be closed all the way through. as you are seated you are filled with the certain knowledge that you want to be anywhere but here. as it begins, you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut. you are 13, and sure you are going to die. by the time you are 19, you will be egging your friends into hitting the local amusement park with you. you've already been there thrice this month.

and that, with the adrenaline rush just barely beginning to fade, is where i find myself. writing this blog. a die-hard, peace-loving, ultra-liberal, tree-hugging hippy who's looking forward to her shooting lessons with far more enthusiasm than she'd ever let on.

what can i say? there are lots of things in this world that are, if you look at them a certain way, insanity, pure and simple. but give them a try. somehow there's lots of stuff that seems to turn out way differently than you expect, but not in a bad way.

how to do it wrong? giving it all a miss. you never know what's meant to be, or where you're going to end up.

Lawyers = Priests.

When studying history, I always found it amusing that parallels could be drawn between epochs in the histories of different places. One of the most common parallels was the manner in which religion developed. There have always been priests or holy men, born to be (supposedly, of course) closer to God, and providing a gateway, of sorts, to the commoners, such that the light of heaven could reach unto them. As such individual priests in tribes evolved into established Churches or Temples and moved into some form of an organized religion, the practices were regularised, and the religion became a standard, a way of life that connected many people across a certain land area, binding them to practices; and those that did not follow those practices, faced some sort of penalty or penance.

Given these circumstances, the church/temple/mosque became more and more powerful, and the practices more and more rigid - to such an extent that the holy text upon which the religion was based needed to be interpreted only by the priesthood of that religion - it was often in a language not understood by anyone else. Soon, that language existed merely as a medium to express religious doctrine, and thus the common individual had no longer the right to access God, but merely the right to approach the priesthood. Such an approach often required the needy to pay large sums of money. Thus, in the name of organized religion, extortion began.

To make a prayer to higher authorities, you needed to hire a priest. For a funeral, you needed to hire a priest. To enter a new home, you needed to hire a new priest. You needed the blessing of the religion to start any new venture. And they would come and mutter something you wouldn't understand, rule you from books that you could not read or have access to, and speak in languages to each other which you could only hazard guesses at the meaning of.

And then, one of the constants in life happened - change.

In the case of Christianity, one man stuck a list of demands on the door of a German Church, translated the Bible, and became the founder of a new order - the Protestant Church. The Bible reached the people. Whether people read it or not, of course, is another matter altogether. The priesthood changed. It no longer had a stranglehold on religion. And today, we have more Protestants than Catholics. I think. In any case, Protestants have changed the way Christianity was. Now, Priest preach in the common language, and the Holy Bible is no longer some kind of strange mysterious entity.

In the case of Hinduism, there was the reformatory movement emerging from the Brahmo and Arya Samaj, making Hinduism and the texts more available to the public. And when the religion, earlier on, didn't change fast enough, new religions such as Jainism and Buddhism were born. Given all of this, we see that there is a pattern when one looks at the development of religions.

What does this have to do with the law? Some of you might already have drawn the conclusion I seek to put forth with this post - but I ought, for the sake of clarity and for those who haven't gotten it yet, put it forth again.

Consider the Law. A set of rules and practices that binds everyone within a particular geographical area. It has its own comprehensive tests that might as well be written in an alien language. To understand any of what has been said, one must hire a lawyer. To start any new venture, you have to hire a lawyer to ensure that all licenses, etc. are obtained. To obtain justice, you must hire a lawyer. To get something stolen back, you must often pay the lawyer more money that the object itself is worth.

The movement has not yet reformed, but it might, soon. It scares me to be here, interning, seeing companies send in these 'queries' which we answer and make them pay ludicrous amounts for. Perhaps my protest would be less vociferous if I had a share of the money I am thus earning for the firm I'm at, but it still shocks me to know how many tens and hundreds of thousands we get paid for answering inane questions about the import of olive oil, and restrictions thereof.

The Law binds everyone, and affects everyone. It is a leech, for it does not create anything new, but regulates all that seeks to do so. It is metaphysical, for it speaks of that which is real, but itself is merely a kind of thought, an overarching rule finding bearing due to the way in which certain things move.

I'm an atheist when it comes to religion already. My thoughts are swiftly turning towards being an unbeliever in the Law, also. And thus, anarchy seems to be an excellent way to lead life.

For those who think I might be overreacting, there is this mall that was sought to be built on Mehrauli - Gurgaon Road, halfway between New Delhi and Gurgaon. It was called 1, M.G. It was meant to house all forms of Fashion Houses and clothes for and of the rich and famous. It turned out they didn't have some sort of building permit, or they were building in the wrong zone, or something.

I was extremely happy when the building was demolished. It showed that the Law would not bow down to the actions of the powerful. It gave me a nice warm fuzzy feeling. And today, 6 years hence, the hulk of the building still stands - the matter is still being considered by the Courts.

The Law is a leech. And it likes to take it's time over its meals. We, the Law Students of this country, want our own share of blood. We must, however, beware the change that is probably just around the corner. For such is life, and such is the historical imperative of our time.

The Meaning of Honesty

I remember being a child. And as a child, I most distinctly remember the urgency and the fervent hope with which my unfortunate parents and teachers tried to drill honesty into my head. I listened, and I was honest - for reasons stretching from not wanting to hurt the aforementioned parents, as well as not being ass-raped by whatever was out there watching me - another topic of some interest for my role models at the time.

Given all of this, it was a pleasant surprise to realize, in my early adolescence (the 'tweens', I believe they're called) that untruths could serve the awesome purpose of preventing Earthly vengeance - and that divine intervention hadn't been happening for a while. Self righteous anger at those who used falsehoods regularly had their impact on this volte-face. I would often find myself angry at liars, and console myself with the idea that it'd return to bite their ass. When it didn't, my disgust steadily turned to fascination.

Once I'd adopted the way of the lie, life was good. It just made things easier. I mean, so much so, that I'd often find it unnecessary to do anything at all. Of course, when these sort of things piled up, I'd often find myself in deeper shit than I would have been if I hadn't lied. But as I grew up, I found a balance - I lied about some things, and didn't about some. And I carried on.

However, at some point, when the balance became difficult to maintain (mostly because of women entering into my life, and how little I found it safe to tell my parents about them), I realized that just telling the truth was the best thing. I also realized that without thinking about it, I'd held myself to being honest about those things that I'd write or do inside or outside the classroom. This does not include homework and assignments, which I unabashedly did every morning in the 15 minutes it took for class to start, because those assignments were moronic to begin with.

I've always loved doing projects. They made me go and read things on my own, beyond the scope of the (inevitable) shit that I was taught within it. I learned more of the world in those hours spent before encyclopedias (before the internet) and Grolier (does anyone remember what this was? At all? It used to be excellent) and Encarta on the computer.

When I got into Law School, and I was told that there were 4 projects to do a trimester, I was ecstatic. Then I realized how tedious they were. The concept of footnoting everything seemed rather wasteful. But as I continued reading for these things, I did eventually fall in love with this avatar of the same thing. I delighted in realizing new things, and finding them and making them my own. I was scrupulously honest about these things - worked entirely on my own, no cogging/faffing, and all original research and work.

So, this is where this post tells you how to do it wrong. This blog's been kind of straying from it's original path, so I hope to do it the way it was meant to be.

1. Don't go to your crazy ass bitch psycho Human Rights teacher, and ask for a new project topic because you want to do it on a topic you've covered in a previous course.
2. Don't tell her that you did it in such-and-such course, and point out the teacher.
3. Don't point out that she's ignorant during the viva for said project.
4. Don't go to her chambers afterwards and point out once again, she was wrong, because she threatened to mark you badly.
5. If you've done all of the above, don't think that things will be okay. The Disciplinary Committee is waiting to get you.

Well, that's about it. It happened to me. Because I did it wrong. I'm grinning, but not for any reason connected to this.

Remember - honesty never got anyone anywhere. Especially not in Law School. Kiss teacher ass, and you'll be fine.

But if you want to do it wrong, this is how you do it. Be honest. Stand up for yourself, and your principles. Relish things that teach you, fight things that don't. Be lazy, but don't let it be an excuse. Be strong, and don't bow down to shit, however tempting that might be. If a teacher's bad, stand up to him/her. Let everyone know exactly how you feel. Put yourself out there and dare anyone to object. Don't give a damn about what people think, but give many damns about what you think about yourself. Improve, but in your own eyes - you are your best judge.

That's the meaning of honesty. And honesty is one of the many things you can do wrong in Law School.

you've got to lose yourself...

i looked at you and i saw innocence.

you walked like you were sure the world wasn't watching -- the thought of yourself as a factor, as anything in this context didn't even enter your mind.

and you looked around with a simple gaze, the invisible observer, moving through the crowd of people - from the ones who had found their place and who they were to the ones who were struggling to find themselves and fit themselves into a new place.

they left you alone, these people, because it didn't occur to them you were something special. you weren't part of their every day concerns and so they let you walk alone...sit alone, eat alone, think alone, be alone.

every thought, every reaction, every statement was yours, made from the outside, unbiased, unafraid and unconcerned of reactions and of labels being attached...

labels like "she's so sweet and innocent" or "he's so dumb you look into his eyes and see empty space behind them", good or bad, never came. coz they didnt give a damn enough to even notice that you were worth something to comment upon. you were just there, another face in the crowd.

maybe you thought this was a bad thing. maybe you thought this should change. maybe you were just happy living your life. i don't know...

but i...i wish it hadn't changed.

its an interesting observation in human behaviour and psychology, what happened when the crowd noticed you...and what happened to you when you started thinking about why they noticed you.

you became aware something about you was special enough to be noticed. it would've been okay if you had realized what it was and stuck to it, been mature enough to realize the crowd is fickle, they don't know you and like you, they like the story, the drama of it all...

...they catch the hint of a spectacular show, cash in and buy the tickets...and walk out of the theatre once the show is over. they never look back. they don't know the actors as real people, they only know the characters. maybe they like them right now. maybe they really like them right now. but the one thing thats for certain is that they'll forget sooner or later, when a newer, better, hotter drama comes along.

but you're just a kid, learning life's lessons the hard way. nobody can teach them to you, least of all me in a blog you probably won't even read.

so where were we? oh yes...

...we were where it finally hits that you're the hotshot football player...or the incredible basketball player...the one that was picked out and set apart from everyone else. everything about you is sexy- the way you walk, the way you talk, even the way you drink that 15 rupee pack of Real juice...hell, it must be that the everyday You is amazing coz thats what got noticed, isn't it?

you're popular and nice. they smile at you and laugh at your jokes. you're the topic of the hottest and juciest gossip, and everyone knows your name. if there's anyone at the top of the pack, the top of the world, its you.

so now...now when you walk through the crowd you don't just watch the others. you wonder whether they're watching you. but oh wait...now you know they're watching...so you play to the crowd.

you walk for them...you sit with them...you eat with them...you think about them and like them...because now you define yourself by what they think. you are one of them- one of the many sitting in a group trying to convince each other they're something.

so let me ask you a question.

if you've succeeded, if this "popularity" is the measure of your success...what is so special about you now that you're just. one. of. them?

...just another face in the crowd, playing to the crowd, trying to be noticed among all the others trying to be noticed.

see one day you'll wake up and realize that everyone knows each other now. for them, you're nothing new, nothing that hasn't been seen before. as they live their lives, they're not going to think about you too much.

and you'll wonder who you are and where you fit in. you'll look for the people who know you and like you. they'll be hard to find because you probably left them behind when you were being one of the crowd because you didn't have energy to do both - perform for the masses and be real to a few. thats okay...there's loads of time. but you can't feel it now; now you're just confused and a little bit lost.

and i have enough faith to believe you'll get to this point- because some don't; some pick performing to the masses over being real. but the one thing i know about this place (all of you know what place i'm talking about) is that you can't hide yourself, can't hide who you really are forever. maybe a few people here and there won't notice, but the real you will come out.

maybe you have to lose yourself to find yourself or to even think about defining who you are...i don't know...

but waiting for that day, i'm going to try to give you a answer now...though you will probably never read what i've written here and though you won't understand, can't understand until you're there and have been through it...

i want you to know...

i remember the boy with the straightforward gaze and the genuine smile. i remember why i noticed him and thought the world of him.

and i want to tell him - it is not the crowd, it was never the crowd that made you special...

you already were.

because you didn't care what they thought.

darwin would be proud...

so.

you probably think you're a reasonably nice person.

you're pretty patient. sociable, friendly.

you've got normal levels of tolerance.

you can play it easy, you pride yourself on being (again, reasonably) laid back

hell, you might even break out and say that you, you go with the flow.

and now you're in law school.

you discover you're living in a dorm with 33 other girls, all with their own nice little individual, unique and distinctive personalities. they're all dynamic and special in their own way. its the first few days and you're happy to learn that they're all soooo nice. why, everyone likes each other here. its a fucking paradise, where everyone has the same plan. good intentions abound, leap about and bounce off the walls.

we'll revel in the new and wonderful experiences together. we'll smile a lot until our cheeks hurt with the effort. we'll push down the niggling thought at the back of our minds that all we want to do is claw each others eyes out. we'll put on our best faces. eat food off of each others plates. sit in large circles and sing. play truth or dare, get to know each other. share, smile, laugh, repeat.


best of all there's this nice friendly habit of congregating in the hallways and giggling. you know, to show everyone how friendly you are. "hi!" "hey doll! *giggle giggle*" oh wait did you just see that person 5 seconds ago? it doesn't matter. hell, you're such good friends you missed them already. therefore, repeat the friendly greeting process. make them feel like there was nothing more you wanted for this second of your life than to meet them, here, in this dusty, dim hallway. throw in blinding smiles and giggles at regular intervals, especially when you feel the mask slipping. let them know they've fulfilled your dreams. at this moment, you are the happiest person in the world. you started your fun-filled and joyous day by seeing their sweet and charming face.

this is all well and good for a few months. this is the sickly sweetness tolerance and acting capacity of a normal 18 year old girl. some of the players in the nice game have superhuman abilities. watch out for them. if they can go their room alone to recuperate regularily, they maybe able to sustain the moves for many many months, years maybe. a totally different kind of player, they're on another plane. actually, they're pretty scary and intimidating when you think about the effort it all takes. henceforth these people will be the most likely candidates for the source of all your future social problems.

but then comes the realization, you can't cover up the cracks forever. it'll show. somethings gotta give. there are just too many negative, snide, and (at times) murderous thoughts inhabiting the darker corners of your mind, and it is threating to leak out. here's the solution.

pick out your go-to bitching person well in advance. this is the person who should be the most trustworthy, someone you think will keep your deep dark thoughts secret, they are very, very, discreet. somehow this person always turns out to be bitching about you in turn. you are very surprised when you discover this. you deserve better. you'd never have thought it of them. bitching about you behind your back? you thought they were better than that. but thats life. find someone new. keep a diary. either way, get an outlet for your emotions. bad thoughts are socially unacceptable in nice world.

one rule of note to follow when selecting your go-to bitching person. make sure they're not the go-to bitching person for one of the targets of your petty lashing-out. this inevitably leads to problems, basically one mutual friend being very very fed up with both of you. this person will probably tell you to fuck off. at this point it all works out well because then the two of you can get together and bitch about your mutual ex-go-to bitching person. because neither of you really liked her that much anyway.

revel in your new social setting. girl world, nice world. the paradise where everyone always has a smile, just for YOU. they might ccp it to others, but hell its the thought that matters, right?

well, this is nothing like you've ever known. prepare to be pushed..prepare to test the limits of your patience...prepare to stalk and glare meaningfully...explore the bounds of your acting abilities. and when those ideas just fall flat on their face, prepare to scream so that they all stare at you, startled and wondering why in gods name you are having a fit in the middle of the hallway.

at this point in time, when you've finally cracked, about half of them have reached their breaking points too. they let the indifference show without realizing - they shrug, turn away and go back to giggling. some of them who have really lost it might join you in the screaming because they think thats the new cool thing to be doing. thankfully these nutcases are very few. you should pity them.

the other half, well those tricky foxes. they're still maintaining the facade. they'll come over and ask if you are OK. as soon as they have reassurance enough to cover their asses in case the issue of their caring ever comes up, about 98% will turn back and rejoin the giggling ones.

the two percent that remain? hold on to them. even then, a couple of them might turn out to be bad eggs. but the last person standing well, thats truly survival of the fittest.

and you deserve some praise. for going through all that. yeah it was worth it wasn't it?

congratulations, you have weeded out a new best friend.