Author: Tejas Rao

I was the gracious recipient of warm water today. It was great.

Today’s been a day of reflection, since 8AM.

I have a theory about how hostels work, specific to hostel bathrooms. In a shared washroom situation, there’s a window of 5-7 minutes before the washroom gets extremely crowded before class. This is because (a) people are inherently lazy, and (b) it is cold outside, which makes you want to lie cozy in your comforter. Therefore, even if you set an alarm for 8AM for a 9AM lecture, you will wake up only by 8:10AM. But that’s too late. Every stall is claimed, because a bucket and a towel have been left there, and no place in the washroom to brush your teeth. You’ll queue up and hope for the best, and in your head, think about how your stomach will grumble at midday because you had to skip breakfast.

This theory applies to the full group, and not individuals. Hence, everyone’s window of opportunity begins at 8AM, and last until 8:10AM. 8:07AM is when you reach danger zone, because the probability of you getting a stall is now dependent on three factors: (a) the distance between your hostel room and the washroom, (b) the speed in your legs and (c) the number of people you say good morning to and the ‘traffic’ on your way.

So, this morning, as I returned to my room from the second all-nighter I’ve pulled in two days, I faced a monumental decision at 8:02AM. To bunk, or not to bunk. First, my attendance flashed before my eyes, and second, the amount of work I had played back. On loop. The balance of convenience favoured the bunk, but I knew that I might experience some pain toward the semester end. I pulled out my ‘Attendance Tracker’ – a lame, colour coded Excel sheet I have, my time-table and I crunched the numbers. Bunking the next three days (a definite requirement) would mean I used up 5/12 of the ‘safe’ bunks I possess, and 5/20 of the ‘exempted’ bunks I have. Not bad, but not great.

It would leave me with a week for my off-days, to remain ‘safe’. Another quick input revealed that I would bunk only 1 class in my subjects, and I knew if I managed a proxy I’d be fine.

I looked at my watch. 8:06AM. I had to decide, it was now or never.

In an instant, I thought back to school. I’d never bunk school. And I’m really enjoying the classes this semester. So I should go.

And then I wore my hoodie, and just like the ‘inner me’ meme, I thought about the proxy I’d receive.

A message to my trusted ally in this task, a message to my friends, and I sat back on my bed, laptop on lap, mouse in hand, glasses on face to resume my work again.

The deed was done.

All in good time, too. Just as the clock struck 8:08AM. Phew.

In comparison to this lovely moment, I merely reflected upon less important things like my motivation at Law school. psh.

But, more about that tomorrow.

Cold water isn’t half as bad as unevenly warm water. Your body is a weird thermostat, different parts understand temperature very differently. And unevenly warm water screws with you. And your back.

You’ve probably guessed, but I’ll state this explicitly anyway: I had unevenly warm water this morning. And I was most certainly not prepared.

Anyway. Today’s thoughts have also been all over the place, so here’s some conscious effort to give this piece a singular flow.

I’ll start off first with the car. My mum informed me that we sold our car yesterday, for various reasons. That hit me pretty weirdly  – I’d never driven the car personally, but it was how I got around. To imagine that being driven away created a type of emptiness I still can’t put into words.

My parents love creating rules. They always have. And I love following rules. I like arguing about them (half the reason I’m a law student). So when they said I couldn’t drive till I was 18, I didn’t appreciate it one bit. I tried arguing and citing examples/exemplars of my friends driving around when we were 15/16, but it didn’t work. It didn’t work at all. So I respected their decision and sat around in the backseat. In my head, however, I was the best driver on the planet.

I’ve been a motorsports enthusiast since I was a child, and driving’s been something I’ve looked forward to for a while. I always imagined myself as an F1 driver, or an NFS character in-game. Except I wore a seatbelt, adhered to a speed limit and all traffic rules that existed. That’s why the car being sold was slightly sad. I thought that would be the car I first drove in, the car I got my license in and stuff.

Oh well.

The other thing I’d like to write about is how stress effects me. I feel like internally I think I don’t get stressed as much, but on the outside, I’m a ticking time-bomb. I deal with stress by closing off and becoming much more stoic – the way I speak, the things I talk about, the stuff I think, everything seems to change.

Hell, I don’t even make good jokes in this phase.

I feel like my stress comes out of some sort of fear. I’m still trying to pinpoint exactly what that is.

Here’s to hoping I get warm water tomorrow.

 

Today has been a normal day for the most part, except I relied on my parents to wake me up, because of how sleep-deprived I have become.

I am too frustrated at the moment to write anything meaningful on here. Therefore, today’s thoughts (mostly about how we sold our car), will be reflected in tomorrow’s post: 10/365.

This week needs to finish soon. I’ve loved everything about this moot but I am extremely tired now.

It’s been a day where I engaged with just 10 people in face-to-face conversation. 3 of whom were over dinner, and 2 of whom came to my room. I hate to think that I’m losing touch with people on campus because of how I’m working. It’s rather sad.

I’m not that good at staying in touch with people. It takes some effort to be able to connect with people on conversation when there’s a lack of context to that conversation – because of the lack of a shared experience. At school, you had your schoolday, and subsequently, most people attended/had the same after-school activities and interests. As you go to college, however, that frame of reference to conversation disappears. I feel like that’s partially why I haven’t been able to stay close to a lot of my school friends.

It’s also that I don’t message them too often, which is entirely my fault. Matters are also compounded because I’m a law student, and (this is something that’s true for every stream), my co-curriculars are so different to what my friends are doing. It’s tough to explain what a moot is, for example. But it means so much to me, that it’s bound to pop-up in conversation.

I was talking to a friend who studies Media/MassComm about this. I had to read up additional stuff to figure out what a ‘shoot’ entailed, and what a ‘DoP’/’Assistant Director’ actually did. Moreover, I had to read words like ‘storyboard’ and not understand them at all.

It’s weird. As you specialize, you start talking like your specialization. An economist can barely speak maybe, 10 words without using the word margin/maginal. Show him/her a problem, and it’ll take less than 10 seconds to hear ‘cost/benefit analysis’ out of his/her mouth. Similarly, lawyers will speak legalese really quick. It becomes habitual for us.

Because it takes this much effort to, say, provide context to conversations, I find it tougher to keep up conversations with school friends. I noticed this when I went home this time and met a couple of classmates.

Coupled with that, we have the entire thing about how people change and stuff. Which, with all this distance between you and your friends, makes it tough to understand them. And vice-versa too, I would imagine.

Essentially, I’ve been making more effort to stay close to my classmates from school. I loved being around them, and the idea of losing those friendships, it sucks.

And, it feels worse at college. You literally spend 14-16 hours a day in the same compound. There’s no problem of a lack of context. And distance isn’t an issue.

Yet I’ve spoken to my friends so little.

Can’t wait to finish the week.

This has been such a random blog entry, yikes. Definitely need to get more flow into tomorrow’s thoughts.

 

 

I love the Internet. There’s so much information available out there, and the Internet manages to connect us to a little more everyday.

Here’s what I learnt today: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vZXgApsPCQ

This TED Talk, on Rejection Therapy, is perhaps one of the greatest talks I’ve come across. It’s worth all 15.31 minutes of your time.

Rejection. It’s tough to deal with, but it’s extremely important to deal with it and confront it in your own way. Rejection from society, rejection by peers, rejection from Universities, and a sense of rejection you create for yourself.

I love this Rejection Therapy thing – Jia Jiang’s given more talks: something I’ve heard before (it’s 51 minutes long: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_W2LeWe-RU), and what’s really cool about it is that the message is that you need to embrace the qualities you have – the qualities you bring to the table.

It’s pretty sweet and gave me a nice, motivational boost to carry on with my day.

My mom always forced me into uncomfortable social situations, to get me out of a shell she was worried I’d have as I grew older. I hate interacting with people I don’t know. It’s very simple. I’m afraid that they’ll think I’m weird, or will label me, or won’t be able to connect with things I have to say. I’m worried that conversation will be awkward.

Something to change about myself. For sure. It’s lovely to just ask questions. Don’t be worried about not staying true to an image you’ve created for yourself. It’s okay to ask things you’re uncertain about.

I’ve learnt, the hard way, that it’s better to ask for help than to figure out something you don’t have a clue about. It took me a Physics Board exam, where I scored a 68%, to realize that I needed tuitions. I was so worried about how I’d lose some portion of this ridiculous idea I created for myself – that I could prepare for exams on my own, that I wasn’t able to see beyond that, and see beyond that for something I wanted more than preparing on my own and doing well. Doing well in general.

The next time you’re confused, ask. Ask for help.

And if someone rejects you, find another person to get that help from.

 

 

Who is a nerd? What is a nerd? – Tejas, circa 2006

I vividly remember the first time someone called me a nerd. I had heard the term in passing, what, with seniors jousting verbally on the bus, but I never quite understood it. All I knew about the word came from people’s reactions to when they were called nerds. Some stood up, in arrogant defiance, followed by a meagre attempt to beat up the instigator, and some cowered away, accepting their fate, their label. Consigning themselves to the corner of bus, book in hand, glasses on face.

Not long passed before my friends first marked me as a nerd. In primary school, I wasn’t the only one, but I read a lot, wore thick, Harry Potter glasses,  didn’t play videogames (because I didn’t have a console), watched limited television, and did a lot of things on the computer – using Microsoft Office, and even learning how to build games, courtesy my Uncle.

I spent time burning music CD’s for my walkman, watching several episodes of Tell Me Why or Tell Me How, and even NatGeo documentaries. It was pretty easy to guess that I’d be brandished one really fast. Except, when doomsday arrived, I couldn’t grasp what had just happened.

What hurt more than the word nerd was who it came from. I had 4 close friends. We spent the full day at school together, ate lunch separately, but then ended up convening in the evening and spending more time together. So they had seen the other side of me – the guy who tried out all sports because his parents forced him to or the guy who preferred to play outside than sit at home in front of the PS2. It didn’t matter. They called me a nerd anyway.

And that hurt man. It hurt. Because to them, I was this chubby kid who’d end up last in every race we’d ever had (I still blame my knock-knees and my flat feet), who’d always keep goal in football, and concede the simplest of shots (out of fear of breaking my glasses), the guy who didn’t like taking risks, like jumping from the top of a slide (out of fear of breaking a bone), and the guy who had a 7pm curfew.

I was the guy who bought books as gifts for friends, the kid who actually spent time on minor pieces of homework, and the person who people would call up to find out what happened in school.

It was pretty bad, and I didn’t take it well. I broke down a lot in front of my friends, crying everytime I was picked last for a game of football, crying even when the ball hit me – an accumulation of emotions, and this unexplainable feeling that they did it on purpose.

I remember the valiant attempt my mother made to console me – ‘You’ll be their boss one day’, she said. I barely cared. Which kid wants to be their friends’ boss? All we care about as kids is having friends who thought you were ‘cool’.

It sucked. Until I found my ‘nerd’ clique. We paid attention in class, didn’t try too many risky things, and pretty much chilled out reading Enid Blyton. It was fantastic. But this was primary school, and my life took another turn when we moved to India.

6th and 7th Grade was tough because my image preceded me. Once I was labeled a nerd because I studied a lot and spoke about how I studied (mistake), no one looked at me any different. I mean, no one outright insulted me, and I wasn’t discriminated against, but jokes came really fast to my friends back then. My un-mastery of orthodox sports like Football hurt me severely, and I was barely decent at Hockey and Cricket, which were not considered all that cool by my friends circle.

Things changed when I moved to Inventure, however. I stopped caring what my image was in front of people, and began ignoring what people said about me. It still hurt when people called me a nerd and said that I couldn’t let loose, but that stopped pretty soon – everyone’s focus reoriented as boards came around. Inventure also had this really nice culture of inclusivity – giving out awards for Academic Excellence. While people who played Sports got medals and trophies, we got Books. And it made our day, week, and month. It was fabulous.

I never got over being called a nerd, but I started hanging out with people who didn’t care that I was one. And accepted me in their social circles even though I was one. It was pretty good. I mean, I did other normal things to chill out and let loose. I loved movies, for one, and some TV shows too. But because of the way I spoke and how much I loved studying, I guess that’s what people associated with me.

And that continues at college. It’s just that I care a whole lot less.

So yes, I’m a nerd. And I’ll accept this gladly. I’ve been one to stick by rules, I hate breaking them, and I love studies and academics today too. My work excites me a lot more than it’s ever done before.

Yes, I’m a nerd.

But this doesn’t mean I don’t like TV shows, movies, or sports. Nor does it mean that studying is the only thing I do.

All this writing was a consequence of someone calling me a nerd this morning. I guess that although my acceptance of the phrase has increased, the associative value of the word remains.

 

 

Bunking classes does not come naturally to me. I’ve never found the need to wander out of class and play on the field, much to the displeasure of my peers in Physics. College’s attendance requirement of 70% (really relaxed), meant that that wouldn’t change.

Until I did the Math, that is. I figured I could bunk 10 lectures without ruining my attendance, and more if I chose to claim exemptions from the committees I had done work for. Math is a strange thing. It confuses you with it’s conclusions until you understand it. And when you do, it inspires you and fills you with both joy and confidence.

That’s precisely what happened to me. Once it dawned on me, 10 became my number. I set up an elaborate sheet with colour coding and formulae for auto-fill on Excel to track my attendance per class and alert me when I breached my safe bunks, and started to miss class where I felt I had more pressing work.

This is problematic for two reasons. My attitude toward the concept of ‘classes’ changed. They stopped being intense bursts of information reception, and started to become monotonous drones of mind-numbing (in a negative manner) revelations. Which led to a dispassion for the subjects being taught, and a subsequent reduction in my enthusiasm. All of which was unaided by the droning lecturers, save few.

Two, I started attending for attendance. For a brief period in my second semester, I concentrated more on the five minutes of roll-call than the fifty minutes of class. This created a situation of having to learn stuff afresh while studying, rather than relying on recall to aid examination preparation.

I’m glad I realized this early.

This philosophizing (not really), which took place over the course of two weeks, meant that I began appreciating class a lot more. Over the course of second and third semester, I found a balance between attending classes and taking a day off. To catch up with sleep, or something. The enthusiasm returned and I began liking things more.

Some of my seniors have bets running on when college will suck my enthusiasm away. To my naysayers, I say, call off the bet. And to my supporters (of which there should be scores), I say, increase the stakes. Win some more.

Safe to say all of this writing comes on a day I’ve bunked for moot work. But hey. I have the balance, I think.

Here’s to seven more semesters of being on edge when they declare attendance for the semester. It’s an anxiousness I despise, but a thrill I enjoy – everyone is supportive on ‘declaration day’, and everyone will help you evade a ‘back’.

 

I no longer relate to the Major Lazer song ‘Cold Water’. Matlab, paani thanda hoga, tho I’m not going to jump. I’m going to run. That’s what today taught me.

My lucky streak in 2017 ended with my bath this morning. Kenny Sebastian’s theory about bucket baths only works if you get a full bucket, and fails miserably when water pressure’s so low that each mugfull takes 2.5 minutes (I counted).

Apart from that, I’ve had a pretty good day. Got a lot done, which is always nice. And yesterday’s slumber party was a success – we stayed up most of the night. Arguing.

Writing is therapy. Even if it’s just a 100 words.

On that note, goodnight.

Quote of the day:

Is Globalization old? No, no! Globalization celebrates New Year everyday – it never goes out of style!  (Faculty discussing the ‘Globalization’ module of our course outline)

I woke up this morning to see Shrek in his boxers outside my door. Except that he was not Shrek. Appalled at how anyone could survive in just boxers in this horrific weather, and with hazy vision, I decided to comfort this being with a bear hug. I’m rather lucky that this was not a stranger, and that Sammy decided to wake me up this morning. Pakka would have lost attendance without him.

That’s how my day began. The prayers from last night worked, everyone! The washroom had hot water! And no insects! And it was clean! Triple success – I haven’t been this happy in some time.

Classes were rather uneventful, and witnessed only moments of drowsiness – which bodes well for the semester. Hopefully I’m able to keep this streak up for the next four months.

Today’s been really memorable because I bought stationery. It’s difficult to describe the feeling new stationery evokes: writing in a new notebook is like wrapping yourself with a really nice quilt, but not covering one foot with the quilt: there’s that sense of warmth, but I’m sure I’ll make a spelling error on the first page.

I also managed to convince my moot team-mates to work in my room this evening, which basically means we’re having a sleepover. With laptops, no sleep, and a lot of arguing. I think the best part of all of this is the drinks we have available. That’s right: Maaza, Frooti, Appy, and for the more-daring, Coca-Cola.

Hell yes, tonight is going to be a whirlwind of a party.

 

We’re all blessed to have another year on this wonderful Planet. I’m pretty excited for 2017 for a singular reason: I’ll be halfway through Law school by the end of the year.

I flew out to Ahmedabad on New Years’ Day. Traveling on 01.01 is not an experience I’m used to, but my general observation from the airport is that people are way nicer. I feel like the World would just be at peace if every day was the 1st of January – everyone making personal resolutions for themselves and wanting to start the year off on a positive note.

I mean, we boarded our flight and then found out we’d be delayed for 3 hours. Because of fog. And no one complained. Not a single person yelled at the cabin crew – which, for Indians and our flawed sense of urgency, is rather surprising. Moreover, the airline gave us complimentary food.

My year, therefore, started off with free food. And hence, I have nothing to complain about. I’ve come back to Gujarat and noticed a couple of changes on campus: our mess is now painted, which means my walls are no longer in greyscale, and they’ve installed some form of a roof outside the hostel. The paint is a welcome change. Adds some colour to this place – college seems to be taking ‘Vibrant Gujarat’ pretty seriously.

Not much else to write today.

Have a good year, folks!