misChief.unCut

 

Wala Sathiya 2012 at UOP

My thoughts on the future.

I have been wasting too much time today (and yesterday, and the day before, and for many many days before that) in front of the computer, producing ZERO work. So, despite the fact that there are now two computer screens and four hands (two left and two right, the middle two oddly juxtaposed onto each other - the wonders of our sensory system, really!) in front of my eyes (I jumped the gun with the "sensory system" comment there it seems...) I WILL WRITE.

The elder places of a "young mind" doesn't seem all that accurate a description of the source of these rants anymore. I am starting to worry. As much as I drill myself to walk the walk and trust that "so much more" will God provide for me, my thoughts often go to actually having to foot my own bills rather than doing it simply because it gives me a kick. I have come to another one of those places.

Suddenly it's all about my "plans" again. With only six months left to go with the blasted degree, people want to know what I'm "going to do next". So far, I have not had a problem with the question because:

a.) I don't worry much

b.) I have (and always have had) a (very vague) "plan"

c.) Talking about it helps sort things further

d.) It also allows me to enjoy the sounds of my voice

e.) I love the sound of my voice

f.) I'm so much fun to listen to

g.) People don't always care so very few problems occur in the rare instance my monologue develops into an actually conversation/discussion

h.) If a problem occurs I can always still enjoy the sound of my voice

i.) I'm so much fun to listen to!

But I really do have a problem. But you already knew that. Only you never knew what the problem was. Good.

Bite me.

*And forgive me the arrogance of deciding to leave in the typo.

Sunset

She sits on the steps leading up to the house, gazing over the hedge, past the blossoming trees into the yellowing sky. Waiting for brilliance. As she waits, she sees through the branches of the bush-like mango tree, the distinct outline of a cloud illuminated from somewhere beyond her horizon, and wonders when the sky will burst, wonders why she waits. She wonders what it must be like to feel lonely and useless; to sleep but not sleep because it is only in snatches of fitful half-hours that rest comes, to be constantly hungry but find that once a reluctantly prepared meal of basics is placed in her mouth in pinches it turns to pulp, to stare into the sky thinking but not knowing whether she thinks or not and what of.. She has forgotten what the late bat gliding out of the voiceless sunset on motionless wings knows every new evening. She waits for colour, and waits and waits. But the sky simply grows darker as the first brilliant dots the sky. Not the same, but still..

Choices

Honestly, University is not something I'm doing by choice. It's something I've been forced to do because of something I promised myself sometime back. The time between my ALs and University entrance was spent in search of "what to do next". The decision was that if I found something worthwhile (i.e. a full scholarship to music school in the US or something similar) I would be allowed to take that path; if not, I would to the Special Degree and get a BA from the University of Peradeniya. This was in order to please my mother and the rest of family because I remembered the disappointment they suffered at my OL results. I didn't wanna let them down ever again. So, that time between my ALs and University entrance was spent searching, but nothing was found. (Actually, an almost-full scholarship to the US was found, but a sense of patriotism and the fact that the school wasn't all that good led me to decline the offer.) So, I was left to keep my word to myself and start Uni.

Two months down the line, I'm looking at the whole experience and I'm still seeing it objectively. It's not as awesome as I expected it to be. It's not as "unforgettable" as people said it would be, and I can't see how I could have "regretted" not doing it, but it's ok. I'm learning something; here and there.

But I still wanna play piano. I want to be able to drown in the strength of my fingers. I want to be lifted up on Mozart's genius. I want to be enveloped in the darkness of Beethoven. I want to be lost in Sculthorpe. I want to be recreated by Blake. I don't even mind some Chopin at this point. But I can't.

It's not that I can't play the piano anymore; it's just that I can't play as well. I know this might be just 'making excuses', but honestly, to play the way I want to play, I need to put in more time than I can afford at this point. It's not that I chose it. I just chose it. I didn't realize that university would mean no more six to eight hours of sweat-inducing, heart-wrenching, gut-pouring piano. I didn't want this. And I don't want to be just another 'somebody' who plays the piano. I don't care what this sounds like, but I'm more than that with my soul on my fingers.

So don't act like I chose this. I chose this, but not by choice.

Initiation… right.

So after abandoning orientation or 'inauguration' as they liked to call it, I decided I wasn't going back until the beginning of class. Wise decision that, cus apparently Tuesday through Friday were just the same; speech after speech after speech and then randomly walking around the campus looking for a place safe enough from raggers to breathe.

Day one, leaving the Arts Theatre before I was supposed to, proved to be a slightly annoying experience. The moment I stepped out, a guy who looked pretty much like just another student (but one of those "OMG I'm finally at Uni!!!" types) came up to me saying "nangi koheyda yanne". Double take. WTF? I'm thinking I'm gonna tell the guy to bugger off and then feel like I wanna be a generous soul, so tell him I'm not feeling well and I'm going home. Big mistake. What commenced was ten to fifteen minutes of him trying to convince me to stay and not go home because I might miss something important. Hell yeah. A security guard who recognized me thankfully saved the day, making room for me to go home (and then gallivanting, but never mind!). Now I go home fully peeved, wondering what on earth the feller was trying to do when my mother puts the situation in a whole new light. The guy didn't want me to go out alone, simply out of the concern that I might get ragged, the local version of initiation.

When I first got the letter of acceptance to the University, I was surprised by how interested people were about my stand on ragging. I really didn't think it was important. Initiation is alright, seniors have a little fun with you, you laugh and swallow the embarrassment. You are now a fully fledged University student. That's what I thought. Even when my mother and a friend of mine who I believe is very psychologically secure and stable asked me whether I was gonna be pro-rag or anti-rag, I failed to realize the full impact of the situation. I mean, who cares? What's with all this anti-rag shit? What, you scared of getting called names!? So you gonna wear floor-length skirts and plaits? Either way, I decided I was gonna be decidedly undecided on the whole thing, it wasn't something I was gonna face with a political stance. If somebody teased me, I'd brush it off. If someone fucked with me, I'd fuck them back. Simple.

Not so.

Being the daughter of a lecturer automatically makes me an untouchable. I know my way around the faculty pretty well and most of the staff recognizes me on sight. I also know a sizeable number of seniors. All this put together makes it possible for me to avoid being approached. Act de-la nonchalance, I was just going to school.

But today I realized that it wasn't so totally nothing. Walking down the road with a classmate after a Psychology lecture that didn't happen, my disgust with the whole place just grew. Being a pretty girl, she had obviously been noted by the seniors who had named her 'Kadupul' after some flower or the other. She laughed as she related this story. We crossed the road, and I notice about eight boys walking down the road in the same direction we were going in. They were obviously rather nervous students just walking down the road, so I was very surprised at my companion's reaction. She started, did a double take and began walking in fits and starts, not knowing whether to run or stop walking and stand. I chose to let her explain her behavior without prodding, if she wanted to, and just continued walking. Two boys overtook us and one turned back and glanced at my friend. Now, there is nothing wrong with this, and I understand it's a funny phenomenon, this turning-and-looking-but-not-daring-to-approach thing, which is an accepted norm in this country. But something struck me about the look he gave her. It wasn't teasing or inviting, it was plain murderous. The girl stopped, mumbled that this same guy had ragged her the day before and turned and fled towards a group of seniors. They in turn simply took her into their circle and comforted her, while the fuck-bag in front of us continued to walk ahead, periodically turning around to stare at the girl.

I had nothing to be worried about and since the girl wasn't a particular friend of mine, and due to a change of attitude in the recent past I really didn't want to get involved, I bade her goodbye and continued walking home. All the way though, I kept seeing the guy's face as he turned to look at her the first time. He was angry and disturbed and almost threatening, and the fact that the girl began to shiver was honestly, no real surprise to me. I cannot imagine what would have been going through her head and what she thought he would do to her, but it couldn't have been pleasant. I couldn't help wondering how any of this could be fun and what these people were doing at an educational institute instead of leading some defeated troop that belonged to the LTTE up North. These assholes are terrorists. And terror is what we come to University for.

First Steps

I woke up on Monday morning worried. My first worry was that I hadn't got enough sleep. My second worry was that I wasn't going to be able to do what I wanted to do that day. What I was talking about in my first sentence here though, was the fact that I would head to the orientation at The University of Peradeniya Arts Faculty and come back with a bad first impression.

I have lived inside the campus grounds for fifteen years, and nothing that happens inside it ever motivated me to join and get a degree or whatever. The staff at the University is a mixed lot. Some are deeply intellectual, self-less and inspiring; some are shallow, mercenary and dull; some are in-between. The vast majority though (as is the case with the rest of our country) belong to the second category. The students are also a mix of kinds. Some are highly motivated young people with independence, well-functioning minds and understanding deeper than their age or experience; some are self-important and politically influenced; some are wasted and wasting; some are aimlessly wandering inside the campus following whatever course, taking whatever exam simply because their parents and the system taught them that the only way they can find themselves a future is by getting a useless degree in something they're not interested in. Here, the majority are from the last category. Then there are the campus grounds itself. The University of Peradeniya has by far, the largest campus in South Asia, spread across 750 hectares of prime land in the Hill Capital of Sri Lanka. Only a tiny fraction of this land has been utilized for the purposes of the university, and the remainder still rests as beautiful pine forests and grasslands, home to many wild creatures. I cannot say anything about the education offered at the University, because I have not experience it yet, but all that I have experienced has taught me that it doesn't have much to be appreciated. I knew this was a useless excursion.

All the same, I had promised myself that if I had no other plans of educating myself further by the time my letter of acceptance came through, I would sit through the three, four or five years I had to in order to get my degree. So I had to attend the orientation, and get oriented.

Saying my first impression of the whole thing was 'bad' is a serious understatement. I am a person who doesn't stick for impersonal bull longer than necessary, and after two hours of speeches, decided to walk out. The other 1000-something students (like the rest of the nation) decided to stay glued to their seats because they were told to. For four and a half hours, the Arts Theatre was a mass of freshers listening to one idiot with nothing to say after the other ranting in front of a malfunctioning mike. The first woman who came onstage was supposed to 'welcome' everyone. What she actually did was recite a list of names and titles which took about ten minutes and then add "on behalf of the Arts Faculty of The University of Peradeniya, I warmly welcome you to the Inauguration of the New Students 2008/2009" in Sinhala. This might have been alright and bearable if the woman was aware of how to make sounds using her vocal cords and related organs and how to move her lips. She was obviously oblivious to both possibilities.

The next person in front of the podium and more than a thousand students was the Vice Chancellor. Honestly speaking, I can't remember a word of what he said, because my brain has decided that whatever he said was not worth remembering. I added that last bit because I was listening, since I wasn't too bored (yet!). The basic gist of the address was along the lines of "this is the best place you undeserving twits could be, so you better just do what we tell you". It's ironic how people find it easier to tell others how undeserving they are when they themselves are the same. I mean, considering the state of the country and the prospects that the future holds for my generation, the Universities are lucky they have any applicants! A few more things about the speech remain in some distant corner of my memory:

1. It was boring
   
2. The man kept saying "I'm sure I don't have to repeat myself" and kept repeating himself
   
3. It was boring
   
4. After every paragraph (written on a number of half-sheets) the Vice Chancellor would translate himself into Sinhala and repeat what he said in English. With the repetitions.
   
5. It was boring
   

This pattern of practicing for some speech contest based on 'What the University can offer you and what you should give back to the University' continued from 9am to 1pm, when the students were given a break to find lunch before their English Placement Test at 2pm. Every speech was followed by a translation in Tamil. Due 'Orientation' was received.

What on earth are these people thinking? I wish I never had to go back!

Returning the RagDoll

What a long time it has been since I wrote last. I finished my last post some months ago with the vehement assertion that I had "grown up". Sad (or happy) to say, my opinion has changed. Haren jestingly noted that he found it hard to believe, and four months or so after writing that post, I too can't help but laugh when I read it. A lot, I mean a lot has changed. Easiest would probably be to start with the last thing that changed.

As of Monday, the 14^th of July, 2008, I will be another aimless university student following a useless course which will qualify me for a degree as a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Peradeniya. How or why I came to this position is not clear, and I really can't believe it. This, like the SATs, is another example of how I do things (ie: fill out and hand in applications), knowing fully well the repercussions, yet not expecting them to happen when they obviously will. Either way, I am now in the middle of a jumble of birth certificates, financial documents and six black-and-white passport-sized photographs with my "name and student number written clearly on the back" and a really bad cold. None of which I want.

The above mentioned phenomenon which just happened to me has caused me to leave my job, my house, my life and my love back in Colombo and move back with the motherhood here in the peaceful hills. Not that I'm complaining though! The job was getting a bit tiresome, and as humble advice to people who can't conform: DO NOT TAKE REGULAR (OR irregular for that matter) 9-5 JOBS. I'm serious. This is a very good lesson I learnt during my after-als-and-nothing-to-do period. I can't conform, and I should stop trying to, because I only fail. My house was becoming a beautiful home (to the surprise of very many people who were aware of the state of my bedroom here in Kandy) yet the house-mate and the constant stream of visitors was starting to get to me. Those new friends of mine, the "sweet and focused" girls I met a few months ago, got a big hard kick in the rear for being paranoid religious fanatics who don't know it. Sorry. My life still goes on. Earning was fun, and I had developed to the stage of being able to handle responsibility of having to find and fund my own meals. My LOVE is the next new thing :)

It seems a bit ironic that I finally found somebody who can actually give me everything I ever wanted in my man, only to find that nobody really wanted me to be with him. Social prejudice is a weird and messed-up thing which ruins people, lives, minds and most sadly, happiness. This definition needs to get on the Oxford Dictionary. I think most of you (at least two of the three people who read this blog) will agree with me. So I decided that I was going to let social prejudice find itself a pastime (various grotesque ideas related to reproduction come to mind) and let myself be happy. I am :)

I admit, the unbeatable *wink* style has got cramped thanks to writing boring pieces on press-conference and other bored-freelance-journalist related compositions, but I plan to get back to being the awesomely talented and prolific writer I once was ;)

"Patience Iago!"