The End of an Era

Undoubtedly, the worst part of the year has just about begun. Or it could count as one of the best. Even though 2010 isn’t yet over, I’m pretty sure it’s been a hell of a year for me. I’ve loved every bit of it.

Especially this next bit – Attending school for the very last time in my life.

Here’s to the last fourteen years; because we only believe in stepping stones.

x EdgyShark x

Mar Efficiency.. What, Corruption?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about what the effects of the above statement might be; positive yet endowed with hints and elements of negativity. Today Manmohan Singh can be rightfully deemed to be as efficient as Afzal Guru, the man who was indeed corrupt, wicked and willing to act dishonestly, and whatever the outcome may have been, the both of them have been as efficient in creating havoc in the Parliament in their own ways.

Of course corruption doesn’t mar efficiency, it only helps it get better. Isn’t corruption and bribery along the equivalent of an incentive to complete a piece of work, however dirty it might be, “efficiently”?

Dostoevksy’s Crime and Punishment describes a young, poverty stricken man who’s morals turned ugly with the growing hunger to own life’s materialistic pursuits. And so he goes, equipped with an axe, to finish off an old lady and in the process, acquire all her wealth within a matter of minutes.

A clean act, very efficiently done; and that is all that matters. Whether or not he later lost his conscience because of the insanity that swept over by looking at the blood stricken gold is a different story. But nothing came in the way of his corrupt doings and how efficiently the murder was committed.

Whether it’s the Indian government, the Russian mafia or just a low paid man working his hands at the school printer; there will be strikes, there will be murders, there will be attacks and there will be leaks of examination papers, and that too, with great efficiency if the above mentioned are well corrupt with abominable green threats.

And no amount of stream of consciousness is going to mar it.

x EdgyShark x

The Mango People

We’re known as the Mango People, or the ‘aam janta’. It might be a sad joke, but the reality is worse.

They say that they let us make decisions and decide the future of what is to be. I might just be one of the above, hanging from a cold and lonely tree, waiting to bloom on my own and try and make a difference. But whatever it is, it’s not happening now.

It’s the older ones, the rotten mangoes on the top that get to do everything. They’re also the ones that receive the most sunlight and are exposed to treachery and wrath. And they love it, they love everyone moment of it.

What they don’t realize is that when the tree-economy shakes from the bottom, we’re the ones that will fall first. They’re on top so that they can get caught by the leaves and branches even if they do happen to take a plunge to the bottom. They think they’ll remain there forever.

But one day, too much sunlight and happiness will bring them down. It’ll show them truly where there guns lie, squashed on the ground. And we’ll be hanging somewhere in the middle, but we’ll be happy. And even when we do fall, our succulent insides, laden with wisdom, will only help us achieve what we want – nirvana.

x EdgyShark x

Taxes, Shmaxes

If someone asked me what taxes meant to me, I wouldn’t know because apparently, I’m still not a legit citizen of this country and I’m not earning, so I don’t need to pay them. But it’s not like I don’t know the economics of the situation.

I was walking through some dirty areas of the city some time back, not there are a lack of those, and as I looked around, I thought that the situation would get better for all those people who were living so filthy and with such meager amounts of the most necessary of necessities. It’s been many years as I still go through the same places and now I can comprehend better that we might be paying for the betterment and welfare of society as such in the form of taxes, but it’s all going into the pot bellies of power hungry, and ridiculously ignorant human beings that we are forced to be represented by.

You still can’t blame me for them, because I cannot yet vote.

So in a way, it’s like we’re all simply paying up large amounts of money to throw secret booze parties for these people. Honestly, I could save up the money and do with buying clothes of my own. Wouldn’t one rather give in kind and perk up the circumstance than throw in more money than our mint can make and watch it go ‘waste’?

Yet, we are part of an honorable country.

No, we don’t only talk, we do as well. Yes, we have social service units to help the poor, the disabled, and the needy. We visit orphans and old people and try and help them in whatever way we can. And this is all done out of sentiment and feeling, and not because of an excessive need to show off to other developed countries that “We’re cool like that too.”

Really then, what is the point in donating money unless it’s done to improve infrastructural needs? Because it’s been years and years, and we stand in a worse position than at the time of the advent of British rule. At least then the rampant poverty prevailing could have been justified, so some sixty years later, are we going to sit around and watch them give the same excuses and embarrass ourselves completely?

Yet, we are part of an honorable country.

So what is to be done you‘re asking me? I’m only seventeen, even if I do suggest something super smart you’re not even going to listen. And you’re telling us that giving taxes helps donations in our country. Alright, maybe it helps a couple of them, just for the kicks perhaps. And what still happens of the other million units trying to help people live better? Because today, even if one man in the country does not have sufficient basic resources to live with, efforts are in vain.

Why pay taxes if you can directly give to charity? In any case half the people evade paying up on time, despite being the richest of the rich. We don’t need such people. If you don’t want to help, just don’t. At least don’t waste others’ time in the process.

Because those who have to, will. And those who don’t want to are never going to. At least this way one knows where the money is going? Because really, I’m not going to slave and work hard and earn and then end up paying for goodness knows what. Why can’t we have a system where the government lines up a list of major and minor institutions that help people and causes and then whoever wants can assign themselves and pay a certain amount in installments to help them? Works out well both ways, much like business firms following the concept of social responsibility. People have ethics too. At first it might seem like no one would sign up for a plan like this, but there are still many of us left who’d like to see our country in a much better place.

And maybe, just maybe, it would work out.

And, yet, we are part of an honorable country.

x EdgyShark x

Hawkers Are Like Rappers

I noted down really weird things during Business Studies/Economics today because I didn’t want to fall smack on the table and have forty pairs of eyes staring at me.

Thus, hawkers are like rappers. Because according to Mrs Sen Ghosh, they have excellent oratory skills because they are able to sell all kinds of nonsense just by screaming. I scream all the time, and I still don’t get what I want.

Aradhana mentioned the rapping part because they even get jiggy with politicians. And they just plain shout weird nonsensicalites and utter the most normal of words in the weirdest of dialects, thus attracting customers. Oh right, there was something else about them hopping onto long distance buses and being the best kind of small scale retail outlets.

We were also studying extreme values and positional averages today. This is what I gathered (apart from of course actually knowing the real things too )

Extreme Values:

Mean  ……..     Median
Keira Knightley  ……….    Pamela Anderson
Shashi Tharoor ……….    Mamta Banerjee

We were also asked to work on fresh questionnaires. Suddenly Mrs R goes, why don’t you work out something on people’s eating habits? And the only questions that struck my mind were:

1. Do you eat with your hands?
2. Do you make weird noises while you eat?
3. How many spoons/forks would you require during a single meal?
4. Do you poke people’s eyes with forks just for fun?
5. Do you think have weird eating habits?

So Long.

x EdgyShark x

The Proposal

It’s a wonderful feeling to be asked out by someone, but even better perhaps, when you do it yourself.

Kinzal accepted, and we’re so very happy. At least now she wont crib about sharing her graph book since we’re together and all. We still have our ground rules though.

Each individual is on her own and free to do whatever the hell she wants to, gawk at other men, hit on them even. It’s more like an open market policy, this whole thing, laissez faire.

No strings attached, and that’s the only way I can handle something, anyway. You do your own thing, I’ll do mine and when we’re together, we’ll be together and have an awesome time.

Mrs R: Where is your work?
Me: *Snatches Kinzal’s book* Here.
Mrs R: Where’s the statistical analysis?
Me: Oh, well. I didn’t bring that book today.
Mrs R: Aah, okay, make sure you do later.
Kinzal: *After Mrs R walks away* Maan, she really must have a crush on you. She spares you all the time! (of course in lesser words.)

I will hold your hand through thick and thin, (and those of others too ), KJ. In any case, I’m always there so let’s not get all sappy.

x EdgyShark x

P.S. This entire post was a pun intended too.

 

I Free Fall And I Love Defying Gravity In The Process

Much is done, much remains to be done.

I don’t feel like elucidating more, Vora knows best. I’ve talked alot, and I think I’m done for the day. Now, I’m going to act on all that I’ve planned. No, I’m not zingy anymore, either.

And it’s going to be awesome.

At least I think Im free

x EdgyShark x

P.S. You are free to ask me questions. Of any kind.

How Much Is It Going To Cost Me To Get You To Shut Up?

Because really, I’m willing to pay.

Remember that oaf econ half-teacher I smeared on earlier about? She’s back. And she really thinks even more highly of herself even though I can see Mrs. R evaluating crap about her at the back of the class as she goes on and on with her amateurity.

She picked on me again today. As far as I recall, the saying’s something like “Pick on someone your own size.” And I’m not exactly sized like a pachyderm. Yes, she most definitely is.

So anyway, I was minding my own rules and not even paying heed to any of the bull she was feeding the class, (because really, what she teaches is not economics fit for eleventh graders. She drags emphasis on jibberish for six year olds during their recess), and it’s simply a waste of classes.

I sneezed. The maniacs behind me began laughing. And she walked up to my row and rested her thick eyebrowed eyes on my inherent countenance.

“I really don’t understand why you have to distract the class like this everytime. What’s so funny? Just what makes you laugh so much?” she asked. *Whaaaaat?!* I thought to myself. “When did I laugh?!! I think, I just sneezed. And it’s called an allergy, the cause of it.” I shrugged it off. But duh, she had to have the last dialogue in.

Gaahd, she frustrates me.

She went back to the head of the class, and asked for the assignments. No one, barring a bunch of the geeks, had completed them. Plus, I was absent in class on Monday, so I didn’t know the topic for the report.

“This much papers only?” she sounded surprised at the number she was holding in her hand. “This many.” I whispered under my breath. So soft, that even Arad sitting next to me couldn’t comprehend.

And I went back to revising my French verbs.

Completely oblivious to the fact that she’d now walked up almost to my desk.

“Yes, I completely unerstand you don’t like me, but you don’t have to *show* it,” she said with distaste.

“Seriously, what?!” I asked her, astonished. “I didn’t even say anything!” I exclaimed with little annoyance. Resentment, resentment.

“Why are you getting so hyper? I get it that you don’t like me, but you don’t have to take it out by distracting the classroom and making a face a me every time I look at you.” *She* then proceeded to use up all her facial muscles to make the very worst, disgusted expression. Hyper? Should I *get* all hyper and show her what me in a hyperactive state actually is?!

“Really ma’am. I didn’t even say anything. And it’s them who are laughing at you, not me.” I threw my hand back. People around me were just asking me to keep quiet. Why?! But okay, if I wouldn’t have kept my mouth shut, she would have taken all pavements to argue till the end of the day.

Honestly, I have better things to worry about that to try and figure how mad that female was at me.

“Where’s your homework?” she asked with spite. “Exactly where everyone else’s is. On my computer desktop.” I wanted to say. Instead I just chose some amount of grumbling and coherent “I’ll give it to you on Tuesday. No one else has done it anyway.” Jeez, woman. Your teaching sucks, and so do the assignments you set out.

“And what is your name?” she asked, trying to preen hard at my SNEH club badge, which yeah, has my name on it. (And I hate it, because the surname doesn’t say Agarwal. Stupid school, stupid management, stupid laws. Long story, call me later )

“Why, Urmika.” I said. “Urmika.” She repeated, venom spewing out of her ten pound fleshy face. “I want the homework on Tuesday.”

“Gladly.” I told the class, and laughed to myself. Really, I could have opened my mouth. She isn’t even my teacher, or anything. She’s a lump of junk.

Everytime Mrs R leaves the class, she transforms into a dracenae. I’m leaving now, I think I have Business Studies next. No wait, Accounts.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Really. The maturity that such a sordid population posessess.

It’s lovely.

x EdgyShark x

You Are A Net Bean (Version 6.7)

It’s a little more than a bit of a disappointment that one feels when called an amateur. Oh, to hell with it. I’m still living, aren’t I? According to what I told Diggy, today was supposed to be the last day of my physical existence. But now that I come to think of it, I *really* hope my predictions aren’t as true as my gut tells me they are. (Things To Do Before I Die List coming up soon.)

Last night, I watched a South Park Bin Laden spoof on VH1. Today’s the 11th of September, isn’t it. Lives were taken years ago, today. That’s another thing I want to do, find out ‘why’.

Why is it that these terrorising blood suckers kill humanity and contaminate society? Revenge against a certain uncle Sam perhaps? Or lack of motherly love leading to such anti-social happenings?

Negative energy, definitely not ignorance.

I miss my French class. I want to go to French class. The glassy windows, that French flag, the red and blue, the atmosphere. And here I am, Informatics Practices and Java Net bean-ing.

*Peeks into the help section. Inserts codes on source window. dsftnlgkgds;lkngflgdefgae. “Ma’am look, it’s happening.” Fake grins. Get’s back to the blog* I had a dream last night, that my three year old cousin knew how to operate Java and I was at a complete loss as to which button to press on the keyboard.

Button?! *KEY!*

R, continue writing! I’m at a loss as to what to write as well! WHERE is my sarcasm and wit!? These days it only comes out when I’m speaking. I *need* inspiration!

Economics today was a drag. This new hefty looking wannabe funky woman stepped into the classroom and asked me to put up the charts for her. I obliged her by getting up from my desk and letting her take a good look of my silhouette. She smiled that stupid up-turned muscle twitching grin, and asked someone taller instead.

“Why are you here, on this cold (The A.Cs are doing a really good job these days,) boring day, sitting upright and waiting for the Economics teacher?”

Or something along those lines. And I wondered, what *was* I doing there? Studying? Obvious option. 13 years. Long time. Every single life threatening day. Whatever happens. I don’t even ‘bunk’ classes like the others. No,  I’m not a dork. I’m just making *use* of the resources lying around, trying to hit my brain in the right places and make something of myself.

If only I wrote that above paragraph in French, how happy Madame would be. (Oh, Madame, I sang Yellow by Coldplay in French yesterday. And it turned out to be awesome.)

She was so annoying, that woman. And my classmates? Giggling away at her every lame  remark. Why, oh WHY do I have to visit an institution with such immaturity and callousness and not caring attitudes walking beside me all the time?

I missed Mrs. R. It was but a waste of an Econ period. Truly spoken. She was sitting at the back and evaluating that woman dressed in midnight blue, shards of reluctance playing on her lips, not being able to express itself.

I couldv’e done well by shooting down some tequila and playing air hockey.

x EdgyShark x

Vora And The Something Something

*Drumroll.*
Wait, no she’d prefer whatever sound the stock market rising levels make. Whoosh? I don’t know.

They began by badgering us (me, and her) unknowingly about each other. That is assuringly confunding. I didn’t know Vora, Vora didn’t know me, but our mutuals racooned off by self righteously claiming us to be the wonders of the cloning process that was first carried out in Australia to a sheep. That’s wrong. We’re apparently better than the sheep where the mind’s concerned.

No, I don’t know again where I’m actually heading towards. But Vora says things to me and almost all the time the realisation that she speaks, hits me like a much required epiphany. Because she says the things that linger at the back of my mind.

“No, I’m not noticing his amazing hair, or his sarcastic wit, and I’m so not noticing the way his shirt is fitting him…and where was I now?”

Oh Vora, you sarcastic li’l iddy.

It’s hardly been what, a month? Oh but you know me, and now we know more people through each other. And that’s the best, knowing more intellectuals still cease to exist in this  made sucky environment.
eg) Diggy, Talwar. Comprende.

What’s left is that lunch at Jalapenos and that economics based research paper that we’re going to approach together. And that internship.

Let’s start having fun, our J.P Morgan way, Vora xD

x EdgyShark x