"Cut the Rug"- To Ragging

Last week, I was asked to write an article on ragging in my college. I didn't want to. Some how I thought the idea was boring. But I did anyway, and for that I had to ask different people about their experiences. I didn't want to do that, again, but contrary to my expectations and chagrin, I got to know some really interesting stories. I remember the first day of college and how excited and anxious I was. I wanted to get ragged because I thought it would be fun. And I got ragged the most out of the girls in my class and in a way it was fun because they made me do funny things. They asked me to sing, propose to a really short guy, enact baby rhymes, etc. It was stupid, but I laughed a lot while doing it and had taken it sportively. The guy seniors were pretty lenient. Girl seniors were bitches. They humiliated me, they screamed at me, told me what a big snob I was and how I had to respect seniors and crap. People say that you become great friends with your seniors after the ragging process. Strangely enough, I am not friends with any of my seniors. We never shared a great rapport. After around 3 months of joining my college, I realized how dumb it is to rag people and get ragged. Funnily, all the seniors always chanted about how ragging was only a sort of interaction. Interaction my ass. I did not interact normally with any senior. I was only laughing like an idiot. And most of them, scared that we juniors might go and complain to the management, tell us, "We are not ragging you. This is just an interaction." And we like ideal jack asses, nodded to everything they said. As a junior, you tend to be stupid, because the seniors generally intimidate you. You listen to everything they say, and not retort. Many juniors complain about how they hate this sort of torture every day, but hypocritically, they rag their juniors too. People are weird. I think most juniors develop a kind of ego when they become seniors. And they acquire this " I was ragged, now I will rag too. They are dumb juniors after all" attitude.

One of my friends shared his ragging experiences with me. He told me how much he was degraded and how medical students are ragged till they start weeping and beg the seniors to stop the torment. Apparently he was called to the hostel one day, and was forced to drink and then go absolutely nude. They were given mango leaves, which they had to tie around their waists, and dance all night around a fire which the seniors had lit, on the hostel terrace. One guy was even asked to urinate into the fire. My friend told me that he was mentally, very severely affected by this, and even had viral fever for a few days. He would bunk college because of the fear of ragging. All this happened around six years ago, and now he tells me how much he laughs looking back. Though he felt mentally tortured back then , he ragged his juniors badly. He asked them to go naked and rub the black board with their butts. I was shocked. It was gross. And my friend was laughing about it! Hypocrisy and sheer grossness. I was disgusted. I do not understand what guys get when they see other guys naked while ragging. Is that not gay? One more friend tells me how one of my seniors was asked to expose one of her breasts, which she did, and one of the guys shot a video and circulated it all over the campus. The most appalling thing was, the girl's atrocity.

Seniors in most medical colleges scold, scream, dominate, and also beat most guys up. I was scolded and screamed at many times for not wishing the seniors, not getting them chocolates. They even scolded me for not ragging my juniors properly. WTF?! One of the girls told me "you think you are miss universe don't you?". I so wanted to say, "yes mam, I at least think something about myself, I pity brainless beings like you." But I didn't. :| I did give them a look, but thats it. One of my parallel batch mates, tells me, "People should be ragged! I got ragged, and I learned a lot from my seniors. I ragged my juniors, because it is from their seniors that they learn professionalism." He clearly does not know what ragging is and neither does he know what "professionalism" is. One more ridiculous thing is, we are asked to address our seniors as "mam" and "sir". It is absurd. What are they? Nobel laureates? The worst thing is they force us to address them like that. I think its because they know how useless they are for this world, and this is the only chance they get where they can at least pretend to be great people. Sad lives they lead I say.

Just the other day, I was watching We The People on NDTV 24*7 where there was a debate on ragging going on. Even Aman Khachroo's(the guy who was beaten to death by his seniors) father participated. One of the students, had made a point in the debate that, as most of the intense ragging takes place in hostels, a separate hostel must be made only for freshers, located far away from the seniors' hostels. I think she had a point, and it will make a difference. I don't know why interaction has to be in the form of ragging. You can even "interact" by talking to them casually, at maybe college fests, functions, etc. Why is not ragging some one a big deal? I fail to understand the purpose behind ragging and why it is so necessary to make fun of the juniors and pull their legs, when you don't know anything about them. And as matter of fact, I did not rag any of my juniors.

That's The Way The Cookie Crumbles..

No, not my cookie. The other day, I had gone to meet an old friend of mine. We decided to meet at Mc Donalds. By the time I had reached there my friend still hadn't arrived. So I was waiting for him, when this little kid, who seemed to look not more than six years old, came to me begging for some money. He seemed pretty clean looking for a beggar. He had put on a multicolored full sleeved shirt and trousers that looked very old, but neat. His hair was messy, which I think he did it himself, for the "effect" and his face had sum black marks on it, again which I think he did it himself. He was walking normally and coolly until he came to me. Looking at me, he suddenly made a sad expression, bent down a little as if to show off that he doesn't have a right posture and held out his hand. I held back a laugh.

"Didi, please give me 50 paise, I didn't eat anything from the morning." he said. "What will you buy with 50 paise?" I asked. "Anything!" he said. "Who sent you here, to beg?" I asked, to which he stared at me for sometime and then replied, "nobody." "Oh, so where are your parents?" I asked. "They are not there. They have gone up." he said, meaning that his parents had died. "Oh, so you must have some friends, to beg along with you" I asked. "No, I wander on the roads alone, now please give me the money" he said. "Wander alone eh? You don't go to school?" I asked. "No I don't. Now please give me the money!" he pleaded. "what is your name?" I asked. "Tara, now please give me the money, please." he said. "I will not give you 50 paise, I will give you three rupees, will you tell me who sent you to beg?" I said, handing him the money. "Nobody sent me here." He said, now standing straight and making a happy and healthy face, looking at the money in his hand. "Oh, so you don't have a home, and nobody sent you here. So where do you sleep?" I asked. "At my elder sister's place." I was a little confused, "Oh, and where is your sister's house?" I asked. "Saroor Nagar" he said. "That is very far! How will you go there with no money" I argued. "Didn't you just give me money? I'll take the bus." he said, with a naughty and mischievous grin on his face. " Okay, then what will you eat if you spend money on traveling?" I asked. "I'll eat at my sister's place!". He laughed a very kiddish laugh filled with impishness and walked away and started begging other people.

I was surprised at his smartness! He nicely took away three rupees of mine, on the pretext of having a conversation with me! Wow! I felt like such a fool. But I couldn't help laughing at myself. That little creep made such a jackass out of me.
He nicely earned his travel expenses from me, and will give that money to his so called sister, who will feed him a feast at night for begging and making idiots out of people like me. That's the way his cookie crumbles. Beg for money, cleverly, for the bus ride, go home and hog on his sister's cooking!

Strange Connections

I already wrote a blog on how I went on a holiday to Bangalore. So there, I stayed at a cousin's place along with my family. He lives in a comfortable house with his wife and two and half year old son. The moment we entered his house, the little kid was ready to greet us with his mom. I had never really met him before. He was blushing all over. He's a kid after all. We all got comfortable in the house, unpacking things, sipping coffee and all that. All the while the little kid stood behind his mom, silently blushing, peeping and smiling at me. I went and pulled his cheeks, smiled at him, tried to tickle him, and poke him so that he at least would start talking.

Every body was trying to play with the kid. His parents asked him to sing songs, introduce himself and ask every body for their introduction. He didn't pretty much do everything he was asked to. He came up to me and smiled. I gave him a peck and smiled back. He touched my cheek and ran away. After that he started following me wherever I went. He once even followed me to the bathroom. I was finding it very funny and cute. He had trouble pronouncing my name, so he called me "A-ne-keeya". Every now and then he would come to me, and hold my hand and take me to his room, show me his toys, and recite nursery rhymes and sing songs. His parents were shocked and so were the others, since he was not responding to anyone except me. He wanted me to feed him breakfast, play with him, talk to him and listen to him, which I did patiently. He wanted to do everything on my lap or while sitting next to me.

He ran behind me all day, and at some point it did start getting a little annoying. You cant keep the kid happy all the time, and at the same time, you cant make him sad too. So I was as patient as possible with him. That evening we went out shopping along with the kid's parents without telling him about it, leaving him with his grandmother. I was told that the kid always wanted his mother around,and would cry if he didn't see her. That night when we returned, my aunt told me he cried because he didn't see me. They made him eat telling him that I would come back if he did. He was all shy and coy when he saw me back home, and then again started being silly and cute, and was dancing around me chanting "A-ne-kee-yaah" every time. Later that night, he was sitting by my side, with his mom, when he called me "mumma". I didn't know how to respond to that. I just smiled at him and said, pointing at his mother " No, mumma is here, right next to you." He said "No, you are mumma", and then gave me a kiss on the cheek. His mom had turned pale. She tried diverting his attention, talking to him about the songs and rhymes he learned lately.

I was lost that night, in thoughts. My whole family was surprised by how much he fancied me more than anyone else. They were talking about, how we might have been related in our previous lives. I didn't know what to conclude. Maybe the kid was lonely, and was happy that I was talking to him, or maybe his mother was not as friendly as I was. It was strange. Very strange. It is indeed very difficult to analyze a little kid's psychology.

How It Is To Feel Like Ice...

First of all, A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BLOG! It turned one on 5th! I wanted to blog on that day celebrating it's first b'day, but couldn't since I finally went on a holiday. No, not with friends, but with family. It was some experience that I had. My dad had casually planned to take us on a trip to Bangalore to visit my aunt and cousins, since I had been everlastingly pestering him about how badly I wanted a break. Considering that, he decided to take us to Mysore and Ooty too. We reached Bangalore on 2nd May, and stayed at my aunt's place. I shopped my heart out that evening in commercial street. Next morning we left for Mysore in a tourist bus that we had booked for ourselves. We reached there by mid-noon, and boy was Mysore hot! I was sweating like a pig. Nevertheless, it was a real green place to see. You can hardly see any empty, barren grounds there. Every place is literally a garden. In the evening we checked out the Mysore Maharaja Palace. It was one of the most sexiest palaces I had ever laid my eyeballs on. It was shimmering in the evening sky, decorated with golden lights everywhere. It was like a magical piece of art that stood in the thin air. But tragically, we were not allowed to go inside, due to security problems.

We left for Ooty the next morning. The vehicle we were traveling in had to drive through forests of Nadamalli in Karnataka and another forest whose name I don't remember, in Tamil Nadu. We were told that we might come across wild animals like elephants and tigers. My eyes were wide open rummaging around the place, but in vain. I couldn't spot a single wild animal. I saw a deer though, which isn't what I would call wild. Then the vehicle drove through mountains, climbing and turning around sharp hairpin bends. It was like sitting on a roller coaster that moves in slow motion. We could sense Ooty from a distance as it had started to get chilly. Nobody had carried woollen clothing along except me. But it didn't look that bad anyway.

Ooty was beautiful. Everything about it was so green and pleasant and cold. I had some of the yummiest chocolates there. We went boating, and horse riding after which our bus parked at a location from where we had to walk to the famous botanical gardens. My parents, brother and I started to walk. Thats when it started to rain. At first it seemed like a temporary drizzle since it was common on top of a hill, but later it started to rain heavily and then it started to hail! There were only medium sized pieces of ice every where. People were running for shelter, and so were we. We found a place to protect ourselves from getting anymore drenched at a vendor's shop who sold items that he imported from Tibet. We were frozen. To add spice to the situation, we were in our cotton clothes, and had nothing to cover ourselves with. I was shivering, and laughing and expirating fog out of my mouth. I just couldn't help it. It was fun! I was giggling like an idiot despite of my dad's chagrin who hates any form of rain. My skin felt prickly all the while. A few pieces of ice even fell on my hands and feet which made me shiver even more. We waited there for a while and then decided to walk to the bus. It was so cold that I could not sense anything on my skin anymore.

We had to cross a street full of rain water and mud. It was like walking in ice water. Or maybe ice water would have been warmer. The moment I stepped on it, my foot became numb. After walking a few steps, I felt like frozen, hard ice. My fingers turned blue and my toes were aching because of the cold. I still had to walk many more steps to cross the lane. After every step I told myself, " a few more, and then you will be warm." After what seemed like ages, we reached a shop where my dad asked for some towels that could help us dry ourselves up for the time being. We had to adjust with handkerchiefs anyway, since they had no towels for sale. We started our way to the bus again, but this time, my brother and I ran. Just for the heck of it. Cold air hit me like a blow, with hail from above and our feet were so torpid that they were almost dormant. But we ran. I felt frozen and fragile, as if I would break open any moment. It was like the whole place was like a refrigerator with the chilled room leaking from the above. I never remember feeling so cold in my life. I have never felt snow or never been to many hill stations that have snow peaked mountains. But I doubt I'll feel this cold again.