Ganeshotsava

I put myself into a non KMC associated Mangalorean layman/outsider's shoes. It is past midnight. I see that the campus is buzzing with activity. I smell incense. I hear merry chatter of young boys and girls as they are making arrangements for the next day's pooja. Floral decoration, rangoli, plantain stems, mango leaves, bright marigolds all around. I hear Bryan Adams keeping them company. (This is not Rehman advertising for World Space.) I see a couple sharing a joke as they are putting up the banners. A student friendly (over friendly actually) professor is not only ok about it but haves a laugh too.

It would have definitely amused me, to say the least if I were in his place. Forget about other hostels, colleges. For my own standards this place is pretty unorthodox, liberal.

The temple lake where the idol is immersed the next day is around 5km from college. The procession itself makes up to a quarter km. It is headed by a truck carrying the generator, followed by another truck which has the 6 feet long speakers and the DJ, student folk from various faculties- medicine, dentistry, phisiotherapy, both under-graduates and post-graduates, professors, an authentic & traditional Dakshina Kannada band, followed last by the best decorated, biggest truck carrying the idol.

There are times when you lift a foot off the ground to adjust the back strap of the sandal and then you do not get enough earth to place it back. Like the sultry weather isn't unpleasant enough, the humans add on to the heat. Along with the humungous crowd, geekiest of the geeks, shiest of introverts also promenade on to the streets and groove away inhibitionlessly to the music blasted.

You wouldn't understand what Ganesha has to do with rock music, item numbers and catchy remixes. As though the DJ just read your mind, he would stop in between and make the crowd shout slogans in praise of Him in unison.

Junior, senior, student, professor, male, female, everybody enjoys alike. If you look around you might spot a professor dancing with his kid daughter on his shoulders, the scary unit head smiling back broadly at you. All with tilaks and head bands, dressed outdoorsy for the occasion. This time we shook a leg with our teacher who had taught us in first year. He was bubbling with enthusiasm. He showed us some moves. I couldn't stop laughing. I think he saw. But WTH, nobody minds anything this day. By the end of it he gave us high-fives.

When you get weary, best is to watch the onlookers' expressions. Passengers in local buses, poeple who come out of their shops, the police who guard us. Fussing babies are carried to the balconies by their mothers. Medical students going insane on the roads. I feel like asking one of them what they think about the whole thing.

At apt times there are these unexpected showers. This is the best I like about the coastal weather. It washes away the fatigue and you are filled with double the zeal.

Alumni, if they happen to be in town would usually join. To refresh their memories I guess. Talking about nostalgia, You change the brand of your deodorant. After a long time you get back to the previous one. Along with the fragrance, the memory of events accompanying that phase also comes back. Ever happened to you?

Finally after the task is completed, the staff would have arranged for the transportation to get back to our respective hostels. It is so 'as a matter of fact'. Like it is natural for us to have dance extravaganzas at 1 am in the morning on the streets.

The next day we utilise the thoroughly deserved 'shouting holiday'.

PS: I know 'campus' would get a lot of us touchy.

One morning at the RTO

Section 87 of Indian Penal Court permits me to:
1. Cast vote
2. Get married and consummate it
3. Provide consent for surgical procedures
4. Possess a driving license

Almost 2 years past since I got the privileges, yet I hadn't made use of any.
#1, The Government was already formed.
#2, Ha ha. Since there are certain elderlies (ones I am answerable to) reading my blog, I would prefer not to voice my valuable opinions on this matter.
#3, Fortunately (for most) or unfortunately (for none, I hope) I have managed to be in a single piece, haven't gotten myself into unnecessary hassles (not predisposing to invasive procedures atleast)
#4, Progressed here recently!! Technically not a license holder yet, but I successfully cleared the test.

The pre test formalities in the RTO were in progress. Five applicants including me from the same driving school. We were instructed to go inside the officer's cabin together. We were waiting for our turn. I caught glimpses of him when the 2 way doors swayed back and forth as people entered and left. We were quickly given last minute revision about the hand signals. I felt like I was waiting for a viva to get over.

He was an obnoxious man who went around raising his eyebrows in contempt, disdain and sneering his arrogance and disapproval at ordinary mortals. Actually most of the people there looked alike to me. I had an unfair advantage over the others with this officer atleast, mostly because I was of the fairer sex. That was the only possibility I could think of because I was the only girl. He was courteous and polite to me, made small talk and addressed me as "Yen ree doctre". He pointed out mistakes in three of the others' forms. One other boy and I, only we were allowed to take the test.

I wondered how his spine hadn't frozen that way. Our driving sir is almost always 45 degrees bent in the RTO, cultivating people of power to curry favour at the opportune moment. It wasn't technically a favour though. I remembered him chattering away gleefully with authority about everything under the sun during our driving sessions. I felt sorry for him.

After 2 hours wait in the sultry, hot weather he made an entry. He made people go for 2-3 lapses on steep tortuous circuits. Anything but reverse I hoped. That's not exactly my strong point and especially when I am being watched. He more than just simplified the task for me. I had to drive a few yards on straight road. I hardly even changed gears beyond the 2nd. He was pleased enough pass me. That was cake walk. Unnecessarily I worried, I thought as I got out of the car. My driving sir winked at me. I returned it.

So far so good. Time for some showing off now. Time to make a scene. "Yen ree doctre, still here? Not getting late for the hospital?" OMG! I wished I could ask him to mind his own business. I'd feel stupid if there were to be an emergency and they really needed a doctor's services.

My role model, super stud, my guru, philosopher and friend had once told me, "If my wife can ride my bike, I'll be her slave." Suddenly the concept of biking held a new meaning for me, was a big deal. I placed it high.

Instead of being annoyed, I smiled and replied that I had also applied for license for geared 2 wheelers. I liked the expression he gave.

I was inappropriately dressed for the occasion. A georgette salwar kameez with a slipperly chiffon veil. Half the time I was steadying it. So I decided to put on my back pack to hold it in place. I sat on the Enticer. It must have been a sight. Around 30 men on either side of the street. I was very self conscious and nervous. I tried to kick start thrice, nothing worked. I felt so many eyes on me. I wanted to disappear. I decided to make one last try and it started. The sound was so melodious to my ears. It was smooth from then on. My lost confidence was back. When I was getting back to where I had started from, I felt my face flaunting the poised, cool, biker chic attitude.

The officer told me I'd be getting my license in a week's time. I'm thrilled!

Life and times in Nandagiri

"Wear your sexiest underwear, your best smile, your nicest outfit, smell divine. If you don't have pride, nobody's gonna give it to you." I quoted with cocky professional accent straight from the pages of the latest edition of Cosmopolitan I had recently flipped on an exceptionally boring night in the reading room. My friend and I were discussing how she should get over a broken relationship during tea time in the mess. We had a good laugh.

Cutlet on the menu. I took a bite and thought what was worse. The preponed sessionals or eating that piece of tasteless, dried biomaterial which I thought was in perfect consistency and shape to play hopscotch with. Having soaked dried peas was out of question when frozen ones were marginally acceptable. I never understood what the big deal is with using fresh green peas, during the season atleast. I complain lot lesser now, but that was honestly inedible. It was stuffed with the dried peel of dried peas and nothing else.

They wouldn't let our fathers inside to have a look at the rooms during admission to the hostel. But because of the renovation there are more men than us in the hostel at any given time. Any dress worn above the ankle is sure to fetch you stares in the corridors. Red haired guys checking you out, passing comments in the lift has becom a common nuisance.

I wouldn't let crappy patties alter my mood when there were better things like the fast approaching exam. I tried to enjoy the chocolate induced endorphins as I walked past the notorious corridor, back to my room. A friend playfully grabbed my choc and ran. In my attempt to chase her I tripped over my own slippers and ultra clumsily landed with a thud on all my fours.

The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act. One red haired guy came to help me out. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shoo everybody away. I was already in pain to exert myself more. I politely refused the help, quietly lifted myself and managed to reach my room without limping like nothing happened. I slammed the door and brooded. Over everything.

To add to my agony the hostel speakers just wouldn't shut up. The lady who makes the announcements sounds like she has a litre of mucous clogged in her nose. Every 2 syllabled name sounds like mine to me. Each name is called thrice followed by the purpose of being called (eg: 'phone call', 'visitor', 'courrier', 'parcel') also repeated thrice. It is usually hilarious, but for then, I just wasn't in the mood. (Try calling me on the hostel line to get a taste of it. The mike is right next to the booth.) One of these days I'm gonna chop those wires off.

Along with the knock on my door I heard "Nottinghill on HBO. Coming?" Candy floss and Hugh Grant. Yum. Instant pep up solution. Will surely get up early tomorrow and start off, I told myself. Just for today, Ignorance is bliss.