Modern fantasy is in a pitiable state. A confused morass of plots and sub-plots endlessly recycled in one book after another have led to complete saturation in the genre. A typical modern fantasy author starts basic tenets of a hero of sterling valour and a heroine of startling beauty, a romance between the aforementioned, an Enemy, a Quest, a War and a happy ending. Dragons, elves, dwarves, trolls and other beasts of monstrous description are then added as deemed fit. The language resembles that of a high school student and the characters seem cut straight out of cardboard. The epic fantasy of Morris, of Le Guein and of Tolkien is all but lost in a sea of mediocrity.

Into this vale of boredom George R R Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” comes as the clear breath of fresh mountain breeze. Martin is an iconoclast, shattering all established norms of the genre in this enthralling series. In “A Game of Thrones”, “A Clash of Kings”, “A Storm of Swords” and “A Feast For Crows”, Martin takes the reader into a war-torn world without honour or justice, nobility or truth. It is a world where treachery meets intrigue, where incest meets betrayal… a world in which either you win or you die.

Into this canvas of violence and villainy Martin paints a memorable cast of characters. The “heroes”:  Ned Stark, whose own nobility is the cause of his death; Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, an unforgettable tragic hero; the dark and moody Jon Snow; the sisters Arya and Sansa, as different from each other as chalk from cheese.

Then there are those on the other side… Jaime Lannister, whose treachery is matched only by the ruthless villainy of his sister Cersei and the ruthless cunning of his father Tywin. Roose Bolton, whose allegiance switches with each turn of the tide; and finally, there are those characters who can truly be called “grey”, and it is they who live longest in the memory. Tyrion Lannister, the deformed imp whose fiery intellect more than makes up for his physical shortcomings. Lord Stannis, whose twisted thoughts lead him through a tangled labyrinth of intrigue, villainy, and finally heroism. And lastly, Daenerys Taregeryn, hurrying across the sands of the desert to reclaim the Kingdom once lost by her father, and leaving a trail of ruined cities in her wake.

George Martin is himself every bit ruthless as the characters he paints so vividly. He has absolutely no compunction in killing off his heroes, and this is what makes A Song of Ice and Fire so unique. Too often in modern fantasy you will see the heroes facing insurmountable odds, yet somehow emerging victorious either through their own unmatched valour or through serendipity. Martin resists this temptation. If you’re caught in an ambush, you die, regardless of who you are. Period. And so far he has, thankfully, resisted the temptation of bringing any of the protagonists back.

Another reason why A Song of Ice and Fire is such an enjoyable read is that it’s “medieval fantasy” in a true sense. In the acclaimed scholarly work, A Look Behind the Lord of the Rings, author Lin Carter, while describing William Morris (arguably the founder of modern fantasy), says “he considered it (the medieval age) to be a sort of bucolic utopia.” Carter then describes the features of this “bucolic utopia”- valorous lords, great-hearted ladies, magnificent castles… the like. Unfortunately, all of today’s fantasy (far, far below Morris’ epic style and imagination, it might be added) is written in this same mode of denial, in this same delusion. Carter goes on to add then, that the medieval age was actually very different from Morris’ idealistic impression. It was cold and cruel, with no thought for honour or goodwill, with plagues and diseases, where the common man often suffered during the wars fought by the nobility. Martin is the first author to capture this spirit in its entirety. Dispensing with the traditional fantasy concepts of honour, valour and the like, he focuses only on the lust for power and its consequences. Discounting the dragons, A Song of Ice and Fire could well be a historical account of some conflict like the Wars of the Roses. It is for these two reasons- a series with a difference, and the accurate portrayal of the medieval age- that I feel A Song of Ice and Fire should not be stereotyped into the genre of medieval fantasy- rather, it should be first in the line of a new series of works in a new sub-genre of fantasy which may be called “medieval realism”

Martin then, is probably one of the best modern fantasy authors alive today. His plots are always violent, often vicious, with no regard whatsoever for human life, but that is what makes his work stand out. Apart from everything else, it is top quality fantasy writing, complexly plotted, intricately detailed and written with verve and style. It is not for the faint-hearted, but if you’re one of those hard core fantasy aficionados getting gradually disillusioned with the genre due to every next Christopher Paolini who comes along with a whoop and a holler, pick up A Song of Ice and Fire. There is hope yet for modern fantasy.

This article was written by Mihir Shukla (Batch of 2013) and was part of unpublished articles from the Quirk archives. He can be contacted at [email protected]. The featured image on top was clicked by Mrinalini Shinde (Batch of 2015).

So we sat down one day, and decided to create infinity. It wasn’t too hard at first; the stifling drone of the collective, which somehow forces sides and the strait-jacketing of creativity, was probably leading us to seriously question our purpose here. So we went to our roofs, to find a measure of solace from the quagmire.

Some define it as a sort of culture, some look at it as form of deviance, some just choose to ignore it – ultimately though, most agree that at some point or the other they have trudged up three floors to see a clear Bangalore sky in its vastness and murky red hues, and have found a drop of calm in the madness that is Law School.

At the risk of romanticising an empty plot on top of a building, this writer has found that the seeds of some of the most audacious ideas have germinated on these terraces. Be they the rumblings of anarchy, the creation of arguments that would thunder and resonate halfway across the world, an understanding of the nuances of running a rock-show or a debate, the creation of institutions, or simply, an effort to make this place a little more bearable and somehow counter the apathy that afflicts the best of us.

So, why roofs? Why can’t we just go to the shady bar at the end of the street and seek absolution in the arms of the ancient monk and distilled spirits? The answer, to my mind, is simple – roofs are quiet places, where you can ruminate without losing yourself in the process. Although the ambivalence towards the fringe –who seek an alternative expression of understanding their consciousness – still exists, there still remains an acceptance of the quiet smoke and the occasional raucous noise that enlivens our existence and makes us remember a little bit of our purpose. Though, frankly, it is also the place where many have found the answer, forgotten it, found it again, and woken up the following morning having no idea how they got there. For many others, it has served as a constant reminder of interesting times.

My tryst with this location, like many others before me, began in the very first year of college. In a new city, and the need to retain my sanity from the different freedoms and new processes being hurled at us, the roof eventually became something akin to sanctuary. You could crib about college with new people (most of whom you would eventually form strong bonds with, and who would also walk beside you through your darkest), exchange experiences, and eventually, end up growing in the process.

This story however, is about blues musicians on the roofs, and the magic created therein. I think, at the end of the day, it was the music that led a few of us there. The guitars, the jamming sessions, and the singing in the collective – while not exactly spiritual – was something pure that transcended the mundane everyday existence. Contrary to perception, it gave us a reason to believe that despite some of the flawed systems that govern us, it is still possible to survive the gyre- without losing our soul in the process.

Many of the old gods have left though, and the circles of territory that were once carved out with the self-appointed watchdogs are now blurring- and there exists an increasing disquietude about the direction our free spaces are heading, because the unwritten compact of the roof – namely, to leave it alone – is being breached.

The schism between the student community and the regulators is nothing new. Usually, it is merely a harmless cat-and-mouse game played out at the college level. However, now the erstwhile middle ground of the roof no longer has the same kind of sanctuary it once afforded. The darker days seem to be back once more; the concern this time however, is that with the transition towards newer batches, some of the core principles that made us whole are being buried and lost.

It’s not that bad yet: We still have considerable access to our roofs, we can still unwind on these areas, and find a measure of peace. The new ‘old school’ is a tolerated lot – and we still create the blue flames of infinity that lead to the path to clarity. But, while the freedoms still exist, it is an uneasy peace that reigns, and the balance is certainly tilting.

In my opinion, one of the things that define an institution is the sense of collective memory – of creation, and how we got there. College is not an easy place at the best of times; it moulds you, creates you, and wrecks you- to ultimately make you understand. It is my belief that a space to express yourself is as essential an element of that particular process of understanding, in order for you to be at peace with yourself. Once they take the roof away – and more importantly, we let them – I have a very strong feeling that we are lost beyond redemption.

—

The writer would like to thank Rohan Ray for his help in editing the piece and fixing some of the more glaring bits of incorrect grammar.•

In school, we were told that growing up is about responsibility. It’s a tricky word, responsibility. My earliest understanding of it comes from watching my parents: the primary job of providing for a family and being sincere to one’s chosen work. But definitions are meant to expand, and fourth year is certainly a tumultuous time for that reason.

In the first three years, life in Law School (in any college, for that matter) is fairly simple. You study, you interact with people, you learn the intricate (or otherwise) workings of the college system and try to do that for a system of law. Alternatively, you come to the painful realisation that an involvement with the law is probably not what you want to do with your life. Sometimes you get out, sometimes constraints force you to reconcile to five years here.

But for all that effort and pain, in the first three years, you are totally free to design your life.

In the holidays leading up to the fourth year however, there is a sense of seriousness that finally, forcibly, dawns. Only two more years left, and it is much closer to a choice of career.

For fourth year is the time (though now it has begun to infiltrate third year as well) recruitment begins. For many of us who lived uncaring as to our employability in the first three years, this is a slightly rude shock, and a burdensome responsibility. Suddenly, resumés, corporate internships, and grades become more important than they ever were. As if confirming this sudden commodification of our education (it is necessary here, no doubt, but that is no reason to not lament it), every fourth year class forms the Recruitment Coordination Committee (“the RCC”) to regulate and manage mass-class recruitments.

The RCC is the batch-specific body that manages all forms of recruitments for every class of law school – and this is largely restricted to law firm recruitments. Rules differ for each batch’s RCC, but it broadly entails that recruitments are to go primarily (sometimes exclusively) through the RCC. Of course, they will tell you that you can choose to apply on your own as a non-member of the RCC, but you will appreciate the odds: here is a committee that works to ensure recruitment; it is natural you have a greater chance of a job as a member than otherwise. The flipside is that the RCCs have historically had a bloody and frightening record. Many stories of ruthlessness populate the RCC-grapevine. You can say it’s justified, perhaps: everyone needs a job, everyone wants a certain job – and that basket of options is not bottomless. In the last three years, I have heard stories that remind me of the inhumanity of war: forgetting those around you and forsaking compassion because you are blinded by your need.

Perhaps I sound accusatory. I do not mean that we, as students or as people, are bad. Only that we exhibit long established weaknesses of the human (and animal) condition: in the face of the need for survival, almost everything gives way.

It will make us trust our batchmates less, look for and find ulterior motives in everyone’s actions, suspect that people are trawling, peeping at, changing, and seeking to undermine our achievements and abilities. Do I deplore that? Yes, I do. But it is clear to see where that comes from: the fear that one will be left without a job (or a career or future or life, because that is how much it means), that in a world as competitive as this (for trite as it may sound, it is true), one will lose out if one does not fight within the tide. We all need jobs. We all need and want the money, for whatever reason we may have or can justify.

Nevertheless – and I speak only for myself here – I believe we demean ourselves when we do this. Many of us have no idea what we want to do with our lives or whether a certain kind of job is what we want. I have heard scores of stories of seniors who have taken jobs with prestigious firms and are either unhappy or have left in the space of a few years to chase rainbows. In internships we do, from seniors we meet, we hear of long work hours that reflect drudgery, dissatisfaction, and lack of direction that is similar to what we face right now in law school. These jobs are, perhaps, back-ups for many of us; an opportunity to earn while we figure out ourselves and our dreams. But they are seen and felt as a necessity, and so we exert our demands, fight for our rights, seek to outdo each other.

I am not critical of jobs, or of competition, or in any manner of wanting a prestigious job. Nor do I think that all of us who choose well-paying corporate jobs are selling ourselves out or are, as the term goes, ‘corporate whores’. Nor do I believe that litigation or academia are fields with greater integrity or inherent greatness as to create a rigid hierarchy of nobility.

While I believe that the latter two create or provide greater leeway and opportunity to influence and effect necessary social change, possibly the most important thing is what we want ourselves, as individuals. Our chosen fields should be where we can work continuously without bitterness and with increasing passion for the rest of our lives, and not a short stop towards something else. If a corporate firm job is that, then there we will contribute our best.

The bottom line is: most of us don’t know what we want. That is all right; it is almost inevitable. But along the way, I wish we could refrain from displaying callous scheming and mistrust of those around us. I hope we will, even in competitive surroundings, find a way to create mutually helpful frameworks of learning and opportunity. I hope, as we were told in our Alternative Dispute Resolution class in third year, we will realise that our horizons do not end with this one job.

My class formed an RCC last week. I hope we can all keep our heads, though all about us may lose theirs.

The word ‘faff’ is a part of law school’s collective vocabulary. Exclusive to this community, it forms a part of our popular culture. Not only is it used to discredit specific statements (Gaganjyot’s use of the word discourse in his 19(1)(a) post was faff) but also to describe academic works (Ghanashyam’s project is faff) and even individuals (Nayan is faff(y)). It is important to note that the word faff is generally not used to describe activities. In such cases, the term scam is preferred. (Incorrect usage: Prem has an amazing CV on paper, but it’s faff!; correct usage: Prem has an amazing CV on paper, but it’s a scam!). Although the word forms an integral part of ‘law-school culture’, -if one exists at all- there has been no systematic attempt to define its exact meaning and scope till now. This is the first.

Definition: The Starting Point

I define faff as a term, which does not have a defined, ascertainable meaning, that is introduced by the speaker into an ‘idea-flow,’ either deliberately or unintentionally, and is meant to serve the purpose of ‘creating an illusion’ of the speaker having contributed meaningfully to the idea-flow in the mind of the listener.

Explanation of terms

Idea-flow: A communication between multiple individuals on a particular subject, via any medium (a mess table conversation between two second years on the feminist perspective of law school vandalism). It includes uni-directional flow (since Varun did not pay attention in the consult, his Evidence Law project is a uni-directional idea-flow between him and Prof. Kunal. Not the ideal situation, for somebody aiming to get a good grade) and multi-directional flows (any GBM).

Creating an illusion: The defining characteristic of faff is the fact that although it sounds meaningful, it actually is not. Hence, it allows the listener to, deliberately or unintentionally, prescribe a meaning to the term or not prescribe a meaning to the term, but presume it has value. (Viraj used the term semi-optimal rationality matrix in his speech against the first years, Basu realizing Viraj is losing by a margin of 1 decided to prescribe that matrix, along with a couple of arbitrary sentences thrown elsewhere in his speech, the meaning of an effective rebuttal to the first year’s primary argument to avoid a politically incorrect decision, Shukla presumed that it had the same meaning without realizing it had none, and gave the debate to Viraj. Viraj won in a 2-1 split, Aniruddha Basu dissent).

Completing the definition

Although this definition adequately covers the “discrediting statements” function that faff serves in our popular vocabulary, it does not explain the other two functions, namely, description of academic works and individuals.

To understand works being labeled as faff we must understand the concept of ‘idea-flow-faff-capacity’ or IFFC. A necessary assumption premised in the previous statement is that idea-flows have the capacity to sustain more than one faff. IFFC is the quantum of faff that a listener can identify and raise an objection to in an idea-flow. It is determined mainly on the basis of the attentiveness, prior knowledge and inquisitive nature of the listener coupled with his desire to arrive at a definite conclusion. These factors vary according to circumstances (Debaters have amazing IFFC while in debates, but they somehow presume that outside a debate, everybody else’s IFFC is really low).

As the quantum of faff (referred to as f.q.u) crosses the IFFC, the idea-flow is polluted beyond its critical threshold and as a whole, transforms into ‘faff’, i.e.:

In an idea-flow, where f.q.u. = n.
If , n  >  IFFC
Then, as a whole, idea-flow = faff.

(Wow, I can’t even remember how much faff Sounak had in his speech, in fact, it was faff).

Similarly, to understand individuals being labeled as faff, we must understand the concept of “pleading ignorance” (or P.E.E). When an individual acts as a speaker in an idea-flow and realizes that he no longer has any valid contribution to make to sustain or develop the flow, she faces a choice: she can either P.E.E. Or she can faff. Given this, an individual who is more likely to prefer faff over P.E.E becomes faff herself, if q.f.u introduced is greater than IFFC. To explain with an illustration,

In 100 idea-flows that X spoke in,
she faffed in 63,
In fact in 51, she introduced so much quantum of faff that the idea-flow itself became faff.
Therefore, X is faff(y).

(“All junkies are faff” said the alcoholic). An individual may be faff in a particular environment (“Only when they are stoned”, replied the smoker) but not in others (all of us are faff in Socio class, but only some dare to faff in History class). The important distinction between terms as faff or works as faff on one hand and individuals as faff(y) on the other is that although intention is irrelevant for the first two, a person cannot be faff unless he intentionally faffs (Rudro is not faff, he is just crazy. But Badri, he is faff).

And this is my definition of faff.

Utility of a working definition: Academic diarrhea or tangible benefit?

There is no doubt that all academic and quasi-academic literature has utility. Therefore, this proposed definition is beneficial simply as it adds great value to the discourse surrounding faff in law-school.

Further, this inquiry serves another function. It provides all listeners with a working definition of the term faff. The said definition can act as a framework which can be used to determine the legitimacy of its own usage. This allows the listener the ability to ascertain whether the use of the term faff itself was faff, automatically rendering that person faff, forever. (Shiney thinks everything Kapur says is faff, even when it’s not. What Faff! Shiney is just faff(y)!)

Even if, one were to adopt a higher threshold of utility, i.e.: only those things which have foreseeable, tangible, beneficial consequences have utility, I submit that this inquiry also fulfills this unreasonable -but somehow, still popular- standard. For, I propose that there exists a possibility that the word faff has another underutilized, yet logically consistent meaning.

The possibility of labeling communities as faff, must be explored and discussed. A community would acquire the character of faff, if the probability of a stranger with the IFFC of an average reasonable person(AvR) listening to an idea-flow emanating from a member of the community (the speaker) ascertaining that the idea-flow itself, is faff is more than 0.5. This probability is the community’s Collective Faff Capacity (or CFC).

If  X (a person with IFFC_AvR) engages in an
idea-flow with Y_random (a randomly selected member of a community Y),
CFC = probability of q.f.u > IFFC
IF CFC > 0.5
Then Y is faff.

So What?

This is only meant to be a working definition of the term faff, and its corollaries. It provides enough tools for empirical research into one of the most important questions facing us today- Has law school become faff? And its variants: Was law school always faff? Is it not faff yet, but surely heading in that direction? Is it impervious from being faff?

In fact, I propose that such research can also be conducted for other communities: BJP? AAP? Politicians? Economists? Although such external application would be colored by ethical issues. Labeling a community with a term that is not a part of that community’s popular vocabulary would deprive its members of a true understanding of their own character (some meaning is always lost in translation). However, if the issue is tackled, this framework has great potential for application outside the law-school context.

After graduation, Viraj has dedicated his life to the deeper study of Faff in the professional sphere. He is currently employed as a consultant with McKinsey & Co. He can be contacted at [email protected].