For those of you who thought this would be a meta article based on my Marquez-esque title, you’re wrong. I just had to show off a little to begin with. Although I adore the author, the only people I currently identify with are Ross and Rachel, as quarantine forces me into a slowly decaying potato state of mind (and body) in the middle of my 10th rerun of this ghisa-pita hua show. For context, Ross is a cocky weirdo who likes Rachel, and Rachel, like a true Law School girl with no options, inevitably falls for him. Then they break up and make up and break up and make up and break up and make up (yes, I have put the exact number of times).
Why do I currently feel like them? Something is oddly familiar about the way they yell “We are SO over,” “We were on a break,” “I don’t need your stupid ship” and the like, only to fall in a limbo of uncertain feelings again and again. After all, I’ve had my own love-hate, on-off, toxic, full of incredible highs (hehe) and painful lows relationship over the last 5 years. This is not a romantic expose — I speak of Law School. And much like Rachel, only now that the ship has finally sailed, do I realise how much I will miss the stupid ship.
This ship has a lovely exterior, full of green and white and red, and it draws you into its fold immediately, like a beautiful green Venus fly-trap. The exterior of course conceals the air of anxiety, the unsteady ceiling of ridiculously high expectations, and the noxious environment of gossip and judgment that surrounds the entrant. Not to mention the institutionalised structural hierarchies and stigma that shape most interactions here. The bad times here are bad to say the least — but never fear because now we have not one but TWO counsellors (*orgasm*) to get us through it.
But perhaps my ship is more than just a well of cloying bitterness.
My ship is purple-orange skies that appear on cold evenings with the warmth of the laughter of your friends around you. My ship is evenings spent at Chetta doing the one leg dance (girls you get it) discussing anything from the CAA to the fond memories from a trip to Gokarna. My ship is the hungover smile on faces when they pass the newly muddy, brown Quad on mornings after a raging party. My ship is the genuine happiness on a beloved professor’s face when an entire batch surprises him one evening with a cake. My ship is the hours spent in exertion training batchmates to dance to Bollywood songs from 2 am the night before Eastern Dance.
My ship also has these tiny corners of light that I’ve often taken for granted. The pleasure (lol) of being woken up at 12 pm by loud, giggling ammas rather than your irate family screeching your name. The hours you spend talking about everything and nothing in your neighbour’s room, that you’ve made your own. The moment a professor exclaims in excitement because of a fierce but fulfilling academic fight in class. And most importantly – Atithi’s aloo parathas that can make any horrible day okay.
And CUT. Feel nostalgic? Yes, I do too. Now imagine someone throws you off this ship into the depths of the open sea with no warning. For context, watch Shah Rukh Khan throw Shilpa Shetty off a terrace in Baazigar in slow-mo (who wouldn’t?). The sea is cold, it is uncertain and you see no direction or relief. Yet you are expected to leave your beloved ship and home of several years, and begin to swim away from it. Except due to our friend Karuna, you can’t begin swimming away, and you’re immobilized in a position where your beloved ship is right there in front of you and you could have been on it, but it is now also beyond your reach.
People tell me this is adulting and this is the way of life, but as a good friend recently told me — yeh sab capitalist construct aka mohmaya hai. So, screw being mature about leaving Law School. We are going to whine and weep and prolong our stay when we come back for our luggage (lol sorry first years). Because this is our home.
This is not to say our experiences here are not shaped by who we are. As an upper caste cis-woman from a metropolitan city, I acknowledge my experiences are positive because of my privilege and background. Law School has a long way to go to make this ship a steady and joyful ride for more than just a few. Yet, Law School is also a people, and for them I am most grateful.
A Quirk article would be incomplete without gyaan, because Quirk articles are usually gyaan/ woke movie reviews/ cool rock sing-alongs no one gets, and we love it. My gyaan is simple – channel my batchmate Adit Munshi. Go back to college and take pictures of everything. Of trees and treadmills, of food and fungus, of Chetta coffee and class. Because believe us, it is heartbreaking to have no closure and a dream of OLTs that you thought you would get and memories you thought you would make. Treasure your time on this ship, because kal ho na ho, aur agar hoga bhi, toh bohot sucky hoga.
The fifth years shall continue our bingos and binge-watching, in the faint hopes that we can return to our beloved ship before that is lost to us forever. In the meantime, keep up the academic rigour and the scholastic incrementalism y’all!
]]>Ever since I was a child, I have been a huge Bollywood fan. My earliest memories are dancing to Kajra Re and Kanta Laga, much to the horror of my parents. The downside of this, however, was having unrealistic expectations. I had always imagined that my college life would be like that in Main Hoon Na. Not the being-held-hostage-by-a-terrorist part, but the living-each-frame-like-it’s-a-musical part. For those who are unacquainted with this masterpiece of a movie, it is similar to High School Musical, except it has an India-Pakistan angle, SRK in a romantic lead role and Sushmita Sen conveniently located next to a hairdryer in each scene. But I digress. Basically, in my head, college was one big party with immaculate outfits, little to no academics, and Gori Gori playing in the background.
NLS however, to my disappointment, felt much more like 3 Idiots. It was not only the academic rigour and strenuous trimester system that provoked this comparison. Rather, it was the complete lack of empathy towards student concerns and a very competitive, suffocating environment. Coming into college, I admit I was a bit naive and deluded about what to expect and my expectations were a bit far-fetched, but nothing could prepare me for the initial monotony and dislike I experienced for this institution. Apart from a very energized Rang de Basanti-esque student protest, most of law school life is centred around either academics or “legit” co-curriculars. Extra-curriculars and sports are given little to no importance. My first realization of this was during Spiritus, which far from living up to its hype and resembling Chak de India, just became an excuse for seniors to take a three day vacation.
This initial disenchantment was not easy to look beyond. Especially when most of my friends were running from one DU fest to another. However it took six months of being in NLS to realise that although it is definitely not a Bollywood movie, it does have its Bollywood moments.
What NLS does give you, is exposure. I had come from a very sheltered bubble and NLS made me realise that not everybody shares the same privileges and background that I do. I learnt how to acknowledge where I had come from, its benefits and also its drawbacks. Moreover, NLS allows you to think in ways that you have never thought before. Whether it’s a formidable professor like Prof. Elizabeth or one like Prof. Rahul Choragudi, you begin to hold yourself to a higher standard and think beyond what you’ve been taught your entire life. You begin to understand issues that have been explored in Pink and Article 15 from an academic lens. And let’s be honest, Prof. Somashekhar in his pink t-shirt is no less than a Bollywood heartthrob.
Moreover, you begin to realise the vast expanses of opportunities that are available at your disposal. Whether you want a Suits career or the opportunity to make a ‘Tareekh pe Tareekh‘ dialogue, you have all the resources at your behest to do so.
Lastly and most importantly, it is the people you choose to engage with and befriend that really contribute to your Bollywood moments. Law School is a scary place and much like 3 Idiots, we all need some Ranchos in our life. My Yeh Jawaani Hain Deewani memories of NLS involve chilling at Chetta with my friends, dancing on the field to (you guessed it) Kajra Re and exploring Bangalore on the back of a Bounce.
Also much like a Bollywood movie, NLS has moments where you feel like it’s all going to go to shit, but miraculously it doesn’t, and all is well and good (if only for the next half an hour). Whether it’s a History viva or an Eco exam paper, things do go from bad to worse, but somehow they always manage to get a little bit better.
By this point I sound more sappy and cringe than I intended to. It also seems like I’ve fallen into the classic Law School trap of giving unsolicited and unnecessary advice. But what I ultimately want to end with (and yes there will be a Bollywood reference) is that I’ve come to understand that NLS is like Shah Rukh Khan’s career- spanning a very long period of time and a very mediocre body of work, but when it brings you the occasional good movie, it really really is worth it.
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