Driven by Gut, Lads Ditch Moot for Noble Cause

November 11, 2018 | Aman Vasavada and Lakshmi Nambiar

In a classic case of need-based innovation, Nagarbhavi Laa College has finally caught up with the Bengaluru startup culture. Himalaya Ltd., a hyperlocal delivery startup aimed at procuring affordable food for children in desperate need, was founded by Hardik Malik and Shashankaa Tewari (henceforth “Maliktewari”, Batch of 2023) on Thursday amidst a severe hunger crisis.

The said crisis was largely due to the non-presence of Chetta for several days into the trimester, leaving hundreds of 20-year-old children starving. This was something that Maliktewari knew only too well, given their MootMonking^TM penance in Himalaya throughout October. Disillusioned by the perils of MootMonking^TM, Maliktewari turned to charitable entrepreneurship and tried to cheer up the young and ravished inmates of Himalaya by lighting diyas, but much to their dismay, the only things that lit the night were the tips of cigarettes.[1] Then their mind lit up, and they realized that the way to a broke inmate’s heart is through their stomach.

Thus was born Himalaya Ltd. – a “need-based innovation” startup, vernacularly classified as “jugaad”. Its business model was simple and ingenious: Exist. Merely by virtue of its existence, the company is eligible to avail all sorts of corporate discounts and privileges. On the very day of its inception, Himalaya Ltd. successfully procured food delivery app BoxEight’s revered 25% corporate discount – which meant that for every three young and ravished inmates, one more inmate could be fed in the same expense. While this may sound like an ironic mockery of relentless consumerism, the venture has seen phenomenal growth overnight. Bistro’s dropping lunchtime consumer base, as empirically observed by us, is testimony to their success. Fifty inmates of Himalaya are now serving as directors in the company. They realise that they have five more years before their first Laa Firm salary, and their stomachs cannot wait that long. On Friday, the company secured 6.5 Crore seed funding from BoxEight, a food delivery app looking to tap into this young and ravished demographic.

Maliktewari spoke to our investigators at their Headquarters in the Himalaya Common Room: “I spent days MootMonking^TM in a deep, dark cave [Cell 305, Himalaya]. While the truth behind public international law still evades us, we know now that the truth of life is simply to pursue one sin and give up the rest of our primal desires. Ever heard of that sage who went to the Himalayas seeking enlightenment, only to realize that having a lot of sex is the ideal path of life? He chose lust; we choose gluttony.”

However, speculations have arisen about the future of Himalaya Ltd., now that Chetta is back (as was evidenced by the uncouth yodeling down the halls of Yamuna by an ecstatic customer who first saw those shutters half-open) and also fully in service (although he sometimes falls short of lemon tea). It remains to be seen how important a role shall be played by Himalaya Ltd. in a post-Chetta-less world. In any case, we trust that the Nagarbhavi Laa College’s AWOL Entrepreneurship Cell would be immensely proud of this unprecedented greenfield venture.

[1] While we do not have scientific proof, our spot surveys indicate that on average, famished people tend to consume more cigarettes per day. It is humbly suggested that the DISCOs co-ordinate with the MessComms and with Himalaya Ltd. to work against nicotine proliferation.

Law school has ruined watching Bollywood movies for me. After doing 2 History and Sociology courses, I just cannot stand period dramas anymore. I need accuracy to detail, in costumes, gadgets, language, everything. I even demand accuracy in my villains. After Lagaan, this is the second movie where I wanted the Evil White Guy^TM to win. (Is it a coincidence that both starred Aamir Khan in the lead role?) I don’t know whether this is because I can no longer stand moral absolutism in fictional narratives or simply because that’s just how annoying the script was. It could also be because Lord Clive aka Lloyd Owen is a SNAAAACK. I haven’t crushed this hard on a British villain since Captain Andrew Russell in Lagaan. He’s played the Magnificent Bastard (1) to perfection.

Thugs of Hindostan, to give a Megha summary, is a story of how Aamir Khan grapples with his disorder of pathological lying. This is an exercise that I wish straight men would undertake more often-half of the problems of law school women would be solved. Unfortunately, it has little value as a storytelling exercise. In fact, the film has little in the way of a story, which is the basic minimum I demand from a Bollywood film, no matter how trashy it is in other respects. It could be argued there is a skeletal plot hanging in there somewhere like the threads of my sanity every time Shahid Kapoor uttered ‘Rajput’ during Padmaavat but it’s just too…flat to be taken seriously. Kind of like Katrina’s face in the movie.

Speaking of Katrina, the makers of the movie picked a very intelligent strategy in releasing one-minute teasers of both her item songs dance numbers so that hormonal lads can come flocking to the theaters and spend their parents’ hard earned money on the opportunity to objectify her for a sum total of 10 minutes. However, to give her credit, it is visible that she really did work extremely hard on both her item songs dance numbers. I have been attending Zumba + dance classes for 2 months but I will probably require 2 spinal surgeries and die an excruciatingly painful death before pulling off the jumps and twists she has done in the film.

The makers did another extremely intelligent thing by making sure that she only had 5 minutes of speaking time in the movie, but at crucial plot points, thus avoiding any criticism with respect to her acting abilities, while also ensuring that the film very narrowly passes the Lamp Test and the Bechdel Test. Unless she was just a special species of Magical Dancing Lamp who can flirt with men and harbor feelings of anti-colonialism. I mean you never know, Magical Dancing Lamps can do everything that women can you know. They also want equality.

The other female lead in the movie, apart from Katrina Kaif’s Abs, is Fatima Sheikh, the cutie from Chachi 420. She plays a Bollywood Warrior Princess^TM in the film. She is mentored in her journey from annoying 8-year-old tomboy with anger issues to annoying 18-year-old tomboy with anger issues by Amitabh Bachchan’s character who is the Worst Therapist Ever. He literally tells her at one point of the film, hey don’t let go of your anger babez, keep it inside you and nurse it forever so you can use its power to defeat the evil gora log. Mental illness crippling you in achieving life goals is such a 2018 millennial snowflake thing. Our Rajput ancestors knew better.

Anyway, Aamir Khan’s character keeps flirting with her throughout the film and in the end, one character even suggests that she has fallen in love with him. Thankfully they refrain from showing any physical intimacy between the two but seriously…she literally played your daughter in the last film you all did together. Katrina’s character pretends to be blissfully unaware of this and the film avoids any complicated love triangle BS. I suppose that’s unfair on my part though, how could Abs possibly be jealous of anyone, they’re just muscles after all.

Before I delve too much into Abs and Angry Princess’ love triangle, here’s what was promised in the title:

1. Watch Dhoom 3. I watched it before I watched The Prestige so I still enjoyed it. Besides c’mon I know everybody secretly enjoys Uday Chopra being a goof, that’s what the franchise runs on amirite?
2. Just kidding, watch The Prestige. You probably won’t enjoy movies again because every plot twist will look lame in comparison, but whatever Hugh Jackman heylooo
3. Also watch Baahubali, both films, back-to-back while you’re at it. The film has tried too hard, and too evidently, to copy the Baahubali Not that the latter doesn’t have its problems but seriously-Amitabh Bacchan’s Khudabaksh=Katappa. Aamir Khan=Mahendra Baahubali. Zaphira=Warrior Princess Avanthika. Even some of the choreography in Vashmalle was copied from Manohari. If all of this is sounding Greek and Latin to you, good. There is hope. The Maahishmati kingdom will come for you.
4. Ruminate on whether the Lamp Test and the Bechdel Test are real guarantees of how well-written a female character is if all you need is some intelligent writing to bypass both while objectifying the said female character at the same time.

(Somewhere in a script narration in a suburban Bombay film studio: Director-But Suraiyya cracks dick jokes! In 1806, mind you! I mean if that isn’t liberated, I really don’t know what these feminists want)

5. Watch Game of Thrones or Hunger Games or idk Cardcaptor Sakura or any show/movie about a Strong Female Lead with Anger Issues^TM which is relatively less annoying. Though to be honest, the entire trope has become annoying at this point.
6. Read up on the history of colonialism in India. Think about whether colonialism really brought our doom or were we doomed from the beginning. The film at various points hints at how Indians are Indians’ worst enemies but then chooses to return to the same old Hindustan v. Gora dynamic.
7. What is Hindustan really? Read up on nationalism(s) and the building of the nation-state. I mean heck, the characters in the film aren’t even fighting for Indian independence or the Indian flag, they’re fighting for some fictional principality. The movie should be called Thugs of Raunakpur. I was sniggering throughout the climax thinking wait for 1947 babes. They’re going to force you to join the Indian union, take away your privy purse, and then the fort whose azaadi you keep blabbing about is going to become a 5-star hotel to host destination weddings for the descendants of the goras you threw out 200 years earlier.
8. Read up on casteism in Hindu mythology. Thugs has a very interesting scene where the gora villain calls the freedom fighters personifications of Raavan, and sets an effigy of Raavan on fire with an arrow, metaphorically standing in for Ram. No, the movie is still lame as hell, still wouldn’t recommend watching it. Read Anand Neelakantan’s Asura. Read the story of Mahabali. Read about Persian mythology and how it’s the inverse of Hindu mythology. Read up on Eklavya and Karna. Burn a copy of the *beep* Smriti (not Irani) while you’re at it.
9. Basically, read. Just read and make your children read too so that when they grow up they don’t hoist the flag of Raunakpur and pronounce the glory of Akhand Raunakpur everywhere because like a certain Mr. Bhagat has commented who needs history when our countrymen have shitty Bollywood movies to teach them about it.
10. As a reward for the above, treat yourself to a viewing of Jo Jeeta Wahi Sikander or Andaz Apna Apna when both Aamir Khan and movie plots were cuter.

If you were already convinced the movie was tatti and had decided not to watch it, congratulations. For those of you whose parents are determined to make you waste your time in the post-Diwali weekend, show this review to them. There is still hope.

*Quirk regrets to inform that the author of this article has mysteriously disappeared. An unfinished draft of the article was found on her computer. While the circumstances of her disappearance are unknown, her friends and family suspect it is on account of State authorities having tapped her Whatsapp messages to her friends about the movie, where she very energetically discussed the thoughts of Aamir Khan’s character on Azaadi. According to Firangi Mullah, Azaad is not one person, but a soch, a thought, which can enable one to free themselves from the gulaami of their colonizers. She was also discussing how it is curious how the main characters of the film are Muslim and in that context the allegory of the villain Clive as Lord Ram perhaps makes sense. Ms. Mehta’s friend vociferously denied any knowledge of what she was babbling about and when asked for a quote simply said ‘The reason he keeps saying Azaad Azaad is because that’s his son’s name. It’s advance promotion because he’s already feeling insecure about how his son will compete with Taimur when both of them are launched, hence he wants to create an impression in audience’s minds already.’ We at Quirk wholeheartedly agree with this explanation and wish Ms. Mehta the best, wherever she is.*

References

1. https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagnificentBastard

October 30, 2018 | Smriti Kalra and Aman Vasavada

In what has been touted as a landmark transition from bureaucracy to technocracy, the ED has joined hands with the Edchemy, an online ERP system propelling Nagarbhavi Law School and the nation towards Superpower 2020 status. While Digital India campaigners have hailed this move towards transparency, concerns have been raised that it is nothing but collusion with a new partner-in-crime.
After a rocky start where Edchemy was questioned by appropriate adjudicating authorities regarding who commissioned its very existence in Nagarbhavi Laa School, the ostensibly illegitimate merger has left no stone unturned in disrupting the student environment even before the trimester has begun.

Its first step has been the historic digitization of attendance records. But with great transparency comes great legal positivism. ED-Edchemy has started following attendance rules strictly – a turn of events that has shocked the conscience of the nation’s finest (self-proclaimed) lawyers-in-the-making. This has proved to be the final straw for the students who are already experiencing their seasonal depression spike as reported by us last week.

While some have valid complaints about incorrect totalling of marks, others have dug out their Admin Law notes (photocopied from someone else, of course) to invoke the Doctrine of Legitimate Expectation. The fact that earlier a 95% might have gotten them 5 marks of attendance despite the rules prescribing 96% for this has ruffled many feathers. A team is also exploring electronic evidence principles to figure out the burden and onus of proving discrepancy in attendance in this era of e-MakeUps.

A certain student who wishes to be identified as Nancy Drew revealed to us that this 96% requirement may have been a top-secret amendment to the AER rules, executed covertly by ED-Edchemy, while distracting the student body through diversions such as elective offerings, unwaranted personal delivery of exam results, and privacy-breaching student profiling. As we speak, our informant continues her search for truth by comparing the forgotten texts of the pink, bound rule-book that first years received this year with the ones circulated in previous years. The NLS Inmates Review can neither confirm nor deny her claim.

But this age of voices calling for due process and responsible reporting coupled with our quest for investigative journalism has taken us to Edchemy’s HQ in Wakanda, where we were duly informed that Edchemy’s scientists are using Laa School to test their algorithmic prowess. If they manage to improve efficiency in our lazy society that abides by the delayed NLS Standard Time, it will sell its algorithm to larger applications that require more efficiency, such as the Vijay Mallya probe and South East Asian airline regulators. Our tech editors shall continue to follow-up on Edchemy’s cutting-edge endeavours.

“System marginalizes indecisive people,” complain indecisive people.

October 19, 2018 | Mumbai | By: Aman Vasavada

NLS Inmates Review journalists stumbled upon three dazed inmates sitting on the footpath outside the Bombay High Court, their faces resplendent with the look of defeat. With a view to bring you some top class investigative journalism, we decided to find out why the inmates (anonymized upon request) were so depressed even when they were on their month-long parole away from Laa School. Their responses revealed a startling concern.

“So we just got to know that we have elective courses next trim”, said a third-year inmate. “Which means I need to make decisions again. Isn’t that reason enough to be depressed?”

Another whiny third year chimed in: “I gave up mooting and ADR to avoid moot offerings and ADR offerings, but how do I avoid elective offerings? By giving up Laa School? It feels like I am a ritualistic offering to the system – a sacrifice made for those who have their lives planned!”. The rant continued for another five minutes, highlighting how the indecisive class is institutionally marginalized, oppressed and othered by the system dominated by those who are privileged enough to make a choice.

The third third-year inmate to speak up to us was probably capable of making a few decisions but still looked just as sullen. This inmate was unhappy with the fact that elective professors restricted the number of students in their class and hence, their choice would be curtailed either by the much-feared FCFS system or by preference given to the fourth-years. The other two inmates, realizing that they were in fact doubly-oppressed, poked fun at their comrade for having ‘first-world problems’, but nevertheless showed solidarity after the third inmate declared emphatically: “I’d rather have no choice than be given the illusion of choice!”

Recent real-time studies conducted by us reveal rising depression levels in Tier-I cities in October. This correlates with similar sightings of miserable on-parole inmates recorded across these cities where they usually congregate to serve their parole internship requirements (firmal or judicial custody). Most notably, outside the Supreme Court in Delhi, five inmates were reportedly wailing in unison: “Freedom of choice includes the freedom to not make a choice”. We wonder if any civil liberties NGO will overhear them and take up their cause.

Despite extensive investigation, source of wokeness remains a mystery

October 6, 2018 | Bengaluru | By: Mukta Joshi

India’s finest law university sure does boast of the wokest of Woke Bois, but where are they coming from? The Quirk team recently undertook an enquiry in an attempt to find some answers to the discrepancy between the number of men enrolled in feminist courses at the National Law School of India University, and the number of Woke Bois it churns out annually.

And these Bois sure are Woke – we need look no further than law school’s infamous email threads, SBA Noticeboard comment threads, and batch WhatsApp group conversations. It certainly isn’t the case that men who don’t bother to study feminist courses don’t have opinions on issues of gender, sexuality, and the pervasive nature of sexual violence, so we attempted to understand the cause of their absence in these courses, and spoke to a few Woke Bois on campus.

“I find academic feminism too pretentious, so my favourite organic source of feminism are my female friends. The best part is that their personal experiences and emotional labor are available to me for free, and I don’t even have to do as much as writing a Lizzie project!” said a fifth year student who’s so woke that he makes sure to never hold the door open for any woman, no matter how pregnant or how old.

“Why take a course on feminism when I can learn some every time a bhai gets attacked on the batch group?” said a fourth year student who, just last week, lectured his female friends on the importance of extending the benefit of the doubt to his bro accused of sexual harassment.

Since the Bois did, admittedly, seem to be making very valid points, we turned to the women on campus to gauge their opinion on whether the shocking lack of male participation in feminist courses was a problem.

When asked, a third year student said, “It’s true that my boyfriend would understand that his gaslighting behaviour is textbook if he’d read the damn textbook, but I think it’s okay because it isn’t too late now to say sorry, and he misses more than just my body.”

“Nothing quite compares to the adrenaline rush I get when I relive my own experiences of harassment while using them as examples to prove the importance of social sanction. I mean, I know that countless others have already spent their careers writing about them so I don’t have to, but I’m so grateful to my male friends for giving me a chance to do it anyway,” said a fifth year student.

“Even though the classroom is a space exclusively designed to facilitate the exchange of unsettling ideas and conflicting intellectual opinions, my favourite place to do it is at Chetta – after all, my favourite D’s are debate and discussion!” a fourth year student exclaimed.

Perhaps we were overzealous in identifying a feminist issue where there wasn’t one, but is this trend likely to change anytime soon?

“I don’t know – I’m just more inclined towards commercial law,” said a student as he walked past.

Exactly one year and two months ago, I had started writing this article. But at that time, the story was incomplete.

In what were the most difficult 6 months of my life so far, I had faced several things – the death of a grandmother, the death of a close friend, an abusive relationship. And rape. Yes, rape. No, I did not slap him immediately after the act. No, I did not go to the police. To all those who wonder why I didn’t, please consider that the Law School community has, time and again, discouraged survivors from even filing SHARIC complaints. In such a scenario, imagine being a 19 year old, yet to come to terms with the emotional trauma she was experiencing. Imagine standing in front of a group of men and narrating the ordeal in detail, over and over again. Difficult to imagine? Even more difficult to do.

Filing a complaint before the Sexual Harassment Inquiry Committee was an incredibly difficult task for me, considering that the perpetrator was once a friend. It did not help that I was feeling guilty for having been drunk at the party or for being unable to fight back during the incident. My guilt was added on to by those who messaged me asking me to let the matter be, to think of his career. My parents, who were more disappointed than angered, shook my confidence even more. Looking back, I would never have been able to file the complaint had a group of my friends not come to my room and given me the confidence to take the step forward.

I used to think that filing a complaint would mean that I would no longer have to interact with the perpetrator. I was wrong. That is when the mind games began. Emotional blackmail, constant messaging, fake threats of suicide, gaslighting and humiliation. While some ridiculous attempts did provide comic relief (going to each MHOR hostel room and faking a heart attack, seriously?), others tore at my self-worth (before this I did not know that only pretty girls can get assaulted). It became all the more difficult when his mother came to campus to meet me. I refused to meet her. But clearly, neither the college administration nor his mother understood consent well.

In the long months before any proceedings commenced, the perpetrator continued to attend classes, seek attendance condonations and project extensions for having been “traumatised”. These months were the starting point of the conversation revolving around condonation of the acts of sexual harassers on campus. Many batchmates took the stance that they could not take any decision about my reality until the SHIC had decided on the same. They  chose to place their trust in an unknown body rather than a batchmate they had known for 3 years. We, in Law School, often forget that we are not bound by judicial principles when we do not possess judicial authority. Neutrality is not a virtue when you know the reality of oppression. Regardless, it was saddening to see these people change their stance when their own friends were harassed (consistency is also a judicial principle, if we really want to go there).

It took almost one year, one bold professor, and one committee change to finally commence the proceedings. I will not lie – the proceedings drained me completely. However, for once, in the entire journey, I felt closer to justice than I ever did before. It was also the time where I found support in seniors and friends who selflessly devoted their time to the cause. Help is indeed always given in Law School to those who seek it.

A few months later, the decision of the SHIC came out. Ecstasy was my first emotion, grief was my second. Over the year, I had pinned my entire mental health on that one decision and expected it to solve all my problems. The grief struck when I realised that I was not magically cured. The day of the decision was the first time I felt suicidal. It’s surprising how little is said about mental health issues in Law School considering how many people suffer from them, day in and day out. I realised after a long time (and constant pushing from my roommates) that seeking help would not make me “weak” and I did deserve to be happy.

On the 15th of September, 2018, my struggle was vindicated. Securing justice gives you the closure that “what if” never does. Yes, the struggle was long and there is still a long way to go. But now I know I have the strength for it, since it is no longer my fight alone. It is the fight of the senior who guided me when I was filing a complaint, of those witnesses who poured many hours into the proceedings, of those alumni who came out in support, of those friends who consoled me when I lost hope, of those parents who would have died to get their old daughter back, of all those women who told me they went through similar experiences, of that bold professor who took on the college administration to ensure the proceedings continued, of those SHIC members who worked tirelessly to complete the proceedings, of the partner who taught me how to recognise my worth – and lastly, it is the fight of all those who came out and stood in solidarity on that momentous Saturday afternoon in the pouring rain.

I could fight because it was not a lone woman’s fight. It was a community’s fight.

(Advisory: Don’t do PDA. Nor let anyone do.)

There are probably only 2 things I like to do in college:

1. Sleeping
2. Taking my routine walk(s) to Chetta 5 times a day.

However, both of these activities have been defiled for me (as they have been for several others). NLS has been infested with things which are considered by many to be extremely annoying and revolting. I’m talking about 3 things here:

1. Pigeons
2. PDA
3. Pigeon PDA

More on PDA later. But first let’s discuss sleeping. The most enjoyable part of day, ruined completely by pigeons. Goddamn these furry assholes (furry assholes sounds weird, I know). There probably are scores of bird species on our campus. And pigeons are the most attention seeking of them all. They are like that one annoying batch mate of yours who cracks stupid jokes all the time to seek validation from everyone (did I just sum up my life in one sentence?) Pigeons are the musical.ly users of the bird-verse. Annoying. Repugnant. Noisy. Even the much-maligned crows are better than pigeons. You know why? Because when crows are being noisy and you use earplugs, the earplugs actually work. But that’s not the case with pigeons. Pigeons don’t care if you pour concrete in your ears. They will make sure that they are heard. Who needs alarms when you have pigeons?

But pigeons are even more annoying in another aspect. PDA. Pigeons engage in PDA on the window sill when you are nonchalantly taking a shower. (Are they not aware that other birds are looking? Are they not aware that I am looking? Dumb birds.) As if we do not have enough pigeons on the campus already. Let’s let these pigeons make some more pigeons! (Sorry about hating on pigeons, SNHP. But wait, you only care about the cute animals, right? I guess dissing on pigeons is alright then.) Pigeon PDA. Oh the joy I derive when I throw water at copulating pigeons. Human induced coitus interruptus. Pigeons don’t have condoms. Pigeons have me (A very naked me angrily throwing water and spoiling their sexy time).

I sometimes wish it were acceptable to throw water at humans engaging in public display of sexy time too. Trust me, there is no right-wing orthodox mentality behind this. Do whatever you want as long as I don’t have to watch you do it. I’m already dealing with pigeons and their PDA and their poop. I don’t want to deal with yours. You want your girlfriend to sit on your lap and play with your hair? Well, guess what – we have a Learning Centre. Go and play with each other’s hair all you want. And please, don’t limit yourself to playing with hair. Play with everything that can be played with. I have absolutely no right to complain about what you do within the confines of four walls. But if you engage in PDA in the library park in broad daylight when I am enjoying my 3^rd cold bournvita of the day, I’m gonna flip. We get it, you are in a relationship! I’m sure your saccha pyaar will last forever. I just don’t want to see you snogging each other at Chetta, or in the Lib Park, or at the BB Court, or in the acad. Couples reading this are probably thinking: yeah Garvit you are complaining only because you never get any sexy time. 2 rebuttals:

1. I have sexy time with myself all the time.
2. I do enjoy watching couples displaying affection towards each other. It’s called porn. And porn, unlike PDA, is aesthetically pleasing.

But this is where this gets tricky. Is PDA totally unacceptable? Can there be any exceptions? I’m sure we are all aware that there are different degrees of PDA:

1. Hanging out with each other all the time: How. Can. You. Bear. To. Be. With. The. Same. Person. 24×7. Just how?
2. Holding hands and walking: Are you using your partner as a crutch?
3. Hugging each other in the middle of the pathway right after class gets over so that everyone can look at you: What do you think people say when they look at you hugging at 2 pm: “Waah! Kitne hot lag rahe hain?” Nope. They say: “Vo dekho kitne chutiye lag rahe hain!”
4. Kissing in the acad.
5. Kissing at the BB Court.
6. Kissing at Chetta at midnight: Kissing. At Chetta. At midnight. That time of the night when the entire college walks to Chetta to get its nightly dose of caffeine. That is when you decide to kiss each other? Bravo. You know what? You might as well ask us to shut our eyes. Maybe it’s too much work finding keys to a room in the LC. We’ll all just walk around college blindfolded. Go the full distance and fuck each other right there at Chetta. We won’t look. Pinky promise.
7. Making out at Navalgund Park: This is the last straw. PDA at Navalgund is a blatant violation of the harm principle. You are harming me, guys. Making the walk from MHOR to Chetta is not very easy to begin with. Add to this the constant danger of pigeons pooping on the top of your head. Add to this the fear of spotting overly-competitive batch mates walking to the library to do some moot or some other studly activity. And as if all this trauma is not enough, add to it the fear of spotting couples making out in the park. Geniuses, you are. Or to use the term in vogue these days, bokachodas. Remember how the college has “Thanks for not smoking” boards installed everywhere? We need to have “Thanks for not engaging in PDA” boards too. And four of those need to be installed right at that intersection near Gate 2.

Bottom line: You are not invisible. We can see you doing things to each other. No, we are not impressed. No, you don’t look cool. No, you don’t look hot. Yes, you look very chutiya. Yes, it’s time to stop. Put some interruptus in that PDA. The skies won’t fall.

Thanks for reading. May you never be traumatized by ungodly creatures such as pigeons and couples again. May you never have to witness PDA again. And may you have lots and lots of (private) sexy time.

]]> http://www.nlsquirks.in/pigeons-and-pda/feed/ 0 http://www.nlsquirks.in/a-fetish-for-excellence/ http://www.nlsquirks.in/a-fetish-for-excellence/#respond Tue, 18 Sep 2018 12:58:10 +0000 http://www.nlsquirks.in/?p=2257 Continue readingA Fetish for Excellence]]> This piece has been written by Parv Kaushik (Batch of 2021).

With the last of the Univs behind us, it is important for us to reassess what we’ve taken these Univs to symbolise.

As an institution that has, over the years, churned out a plethora of people whom one would term “studly”, the bar was set pretty high. At some level, their achievements became more of a metric for self-evaluation. Being in the top 10 of your batch didn’t feel  like so much of an objectively great achievement (something worth praising and working towards), as it did a necessary prerequisite for your academic record to be of any value. Winning a moot became the only culmination of a 5 month long process to have any value. It is important to stress here, that the idea isn’t that winning an international moot or being in the top 10 of your batch isn’t great and the result of a lot of hard work. The idea is that we as a community attach an inordinate amount of value to these achievements. More importantly, when we start projecting these achievements onto others, we’re playing a dangerous game.

The necessary consequence of continuously highlighting and showcasing these achievements is self deprecation. Because it doesn’t matter that you loved the 5 month mooting experience, learnt a lot and got genuinely hooked onto the area of law. In the eyes of most people, these are mere by-products, things you tell yourself to feel good. For you, none of it makes sense unless you win. How we treat people who win tournaments or the like, is a quintessential case of “sar par chadhana“. As I said, the achievements of our peers and alumni, have become a metric of self evaluation. Getting a top 20 rank in Univs has been given such a stature, that anything below that is perceived as a necessary indicator of your ineptitude and incompetence.

People shouldn’t have to cry in self loathing and devastation because they won’t be stamping their passports on college money. Juniors shouldn’t have to come up to seniors saying that they feel like they aren’t doing well enough in law school because they aren’t acing moots or debates like their batchmate X.  The burden of winning that we have created is immense. It makes people think lesser of themselves if they don’t. Seniors need to start being more responsible in terms of  setting the right tone. We need to stop, in jest or otherwise, calling first years lame for not doing moot univs. We need to stop sending in teams with the burden of winning. It is nerve racking to go into competitions with the burden of performing as well as the teams before you. We need to break this fetish for excellence. We need to start telling juniors that putting their best possible foot forward  has inherent value.

To assuage any triggered mooters or debaters, the point here isn’t that there isn’t skill involved in what you do and that it’s merely a matter of you getting lucky. There is value to the skills you possess and effort required in what you have achieved. The point is, those skills aren’t the only thing that have value, nor are they necessarily more important than others. This isn’t a personal call-out of you for having personally contributed to this fetishism (at least not for the vast majority of you :P). This is a call-out of a culture that makes students feel that there are only a fixed number of avenues to make their law school life be of value. It is a call-out of a culture which, to some extent, might even make people participate in activities simply so that other people think that they’re worth something. Our obsession with having our names plastered on a board (*cough* *cough* SDGM), makes having your name on the board the pinnacle of any achievement.

Finally, we need to stop selling ourselves as “studs”. The moment we do that, we will remove the perverse incentive that pushes juniors into doing “studly” things. Let us create an environment where people wouldn’t want to hide in their rooms because it took other people three whole scrolls on their phones to get to their rank. Be appreciative and proud of all the mooters, debaters and ADRers (?) who’ve done brilliantly, but also have some appreciation for the people who gave it the best they could. Their best is of value too. It is about time we recognised it.

This past week has been a confusing time for many of us – shocking and disheartening for some, reassuring and empowering for others. I’ve heard the phrase “law school is having its #metoo moment” more than once, and many of us (myself included) have felt like we’ve been caught in quicksand, at times – struggling with questions that we’re unable to escape or ignore. This is natural, of course; everyone takes their own time on the learning curve. But the problem with taking too long when it comes to something like practicing feminism is that the collateral damage caused by missteps taken by those who are still on this learning curve can be devastating to those who are already been left vulnerable.

Why should we dissociate ourselves from men who we know have sexually harassed? This question was thrown open during the run up to the SBA elections this year, and naturally turned into a shitfest of gargantuan proportions. Is this not a form of mob justice? Do we not believe in the ability of a perpetrator to reform? Is it not inconsistent with mainstream law school opinion on the death penalty? In a nutshell, the need for social sanction, or dissociation, is precisely this: when men commit sexual harassment, which is an abuse of power and privilege, it is their social capital which allows them to not only commit the act in the first place, but to silence the victim after the act has taken place. While this silencing may not be active or even intentional, it functions in latent ways – by instilling fear and self-doubt (not to mention a constant feeling of dread) in the mind of the victim, which intensifies when she eventually comes to the realization that the perpetrator will never be held accountable.

In law school, in addition to the social power structures that naturally exist, additional forms of privilege act as shields – studliness, mooting achievements, sporting stardom, and committee convenership, to name a few. The higher up you are on the law school ladder, the more quickly you are likely to be forgiven for your abuse of this status. Does a class bias not exist in how we’ve seen social sanction pan out over the past couple of years? Of course it does, and it shouldn’t. But the logical extension of this ought to be that we take all victims of sexual harassment seriously, and sanction their perpetrators equally, regardless of their law school status – and not that nobody should receive any sanction at all.

With regard to reformative justice and forgiveness, I believe that nobody has the right to forgive a perpetrator for violating someone else. But obviously, expecting someone to remain a friendless outcast is not viable forever. Focusing on the consequences of ostracization (but what about his job? what about his mental health?) could not be further from the point, though. When trying to devise a practical solution to deal with a practical problem, we cannot ignore the fact that we still very much live in a world, and in a law school where, as much as we’d like to believe otherwise, sexual violence is not taken seriously. A perpetrator is never going to be rendered an absolute pariah, unless maybe the victim manages somehow to go through a gruelling SHARIC trial and secure a conviction (and maybe not even then). What we must keep in mind though, is that the best (and only genuine) apology is changed behaviour. Until we are unequivocally certain of that, ensuring that we do not continue to reward perpetrators with the same social capital they have abused is one small but necessary step we can take to see to it that we are, in fact, taking sexual violence as seriously as we think we are.

As a fifth year student, I’ve spent four years now living with a deep sense of regret for not having spoken up (and other times, not having spoken up forcefully enough) about the sexual violence I’ve experienced during my time in law school. And I know I’m not the only one. Perhaps if the community had reassured me, as a first year, that each experience amounted to something more than just minor infractions that I should get over and let go, I wouldn’t have struggled for so long with feelings of distrust and hopelessness. I think we’re further along the learning curve now. And I think we owe it to those still struggling with these feelings (and those who haven’t had to, yet) to let them know we’ve got their back.