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Reading Bill Bryson always makes me happy. and ambitious. Like looking at zenpencils does. Anyway, in this case, while starting to read “I’m a stranger here myself” – just starting,
mind you – a collection of Bills’ experiences on returning to America – my first thought was: why don’t I start writing a weekly column of my experiences in America – which quickly
deteriorated to on a biweekly/monthly/somewhat regular basis – even in my resolution, as soon as I had a coupla moments of reflection.

Now, if you managed to read this massive run-on sentence & made sense of it, you’ll know exactly why I’d make a horrible columnist. My one sentence takes up an entire paragraph and probably requires much hatcheted editing. That, coupled with frequent procrastinating stints and recurring writer’s blocks would make this a crazy challenge. Which would make this daydream of chronicling my experiences over the next twenty years in various countries fairly fanciful. Yet we shall plod on.

And as my ever so helpful audience of few, you can cheer me on by giving me prompts – for the privilege of reading my convoluted thoughts in run-on prose!

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– Herr Rotn Tometou

I hereby exercise my divine right to the freedom of expression for continuously, fluently, randomly trashing everything under the sun, or above, or anything even remotely unconnected to it. Hmm..
The trashcan – a humble receptacle of garbage, a silent witness to the daily tortures inflicted by it’s users and especially non-users. The symbol of the dead, decaying and deteriorating. Or shall we say, a candid display of all our dirty linen, oops wastes.
In  my case, my take on the horrors inflicted upon us in the form of incompetency, idiocy, irony and cos’ I can’t come with any more i…y words right now, u fill it up. Whether the trashcan has been an eye-opening or even a vaguely, tolerably entertaining set of articles for you or not, it is an amazing way for me to
…… pass my time (right now I’m writing this in class, yes, I am subjected to that too..)
…… subject quite a lot of people to my scintillating writing skills.
…… subject a select few (mind you, most of whom I don’t know) to a thorough verbal lashing.
I confess, I Herr. Rotn Tometou am not a single writer, but the collective critic’s spirit of a generation of student writers, so as to speak. A convenient and might I say popular front to freely express themselves in the safest manner possible… right.. (mostly I guess..)
So I hope to live on (forever..nah!, We’ll change the name @ some point of time) and entertain all of you with scathing wit, searing critique and insightful vision. hah!

– an article for the LnD noticeboard, a desperate bid for creativity in my 2nd yr

Trudging through the dreary halls of our esteemed institution, our eyes lock onto the signs of the energy crisis which is visible everywhere. A drop to the shoulders, a hunch of the back seems characteristic of every student. You may wonder why this sudden observation of what is long considered part and parcel of everyday life but reality bites, hits you hard, stabs you in the back, front or what the heck even in the sides when it wants to.
The marked lack of enthusiasm is the first trait observed by any outsider who sets foot inside the campus. is it due to the gently blowing breeze, rolling acres of lush greenery with a few buildings haphazardly thrown in constitute our organisation? Or the perpetually sleepy atmosphere perfect for a cosy nap that we walk about in, in our woolly-headedness that cushions anything we manage to cram in just before our evaluations, just so that we are unable to retrieve it without pulling out a few strands of our hair out too in sheer frustration; that is if we can bring ourselves to pull out of our location-induced stupor.
We could also take into account the mind-numbing monotony of the daily routine; hours of open-mouthed open-eyed mental absences and repetitive visits to the same haunts that everyone seems to mill about in. Considering all this and all the endless other attributes that endear this place to us, is it any wonder that we see living zombies drift about in the so-called hallowed environs.
Well the end result of this is the phenomenon of energy crisis which was the impetus for this piece of writing which again is nothing but the rant of a dillusioned collegian or just the product of a hyperactive overworked imagination. (I hope!)

This is an excerpt from Yung’s world – our college fest newsletter of 2006. Written under extreme persuasion from seniors (ah the memories of first year) The authors disclaim all mistakes, errors in fact, opinion and viewpoints. Read it for fun…

HE ON SHE..

Credits – Vignesh.J

She sat in the corner of the room inquisitively eyeing the box on the table in the middle. The instructions given to her were clear. She was not to open the box and any cost and was to rather safeguard it… But the serpent in her head had already started whispering to this daughter of Eve. A few moments of contemplation and she was running across the room to open the box. Pandora opened it slightly, just a peek she thought. But that was enough. The harm had already been done. The only thing that remained in the box was hope and man had only that to cling on to.

God had created woman to be a partner to man. Well.. what can I say but that God had definitely erred this one time. Women have a constant need to reprimand others for the fun of it, acquire beautifully useless yet costly things, listen to undue praises of her beauty and have power. How is it that any sensible creature (and that’s man!) would be able to put up with such a fickle, selfish and egoistic life form as a partner.

In today’s world, what a woman is has become transparently clear. Assign her a work and you hear the retort, ‘C’mon I’m a lady!’. But if you had not offered her this work, the result would be accusations of being a chauvinist and undermining a woman’s capabilities and what not. Come to think of it, what are a woman’s capabilities? I guess it would continue to remain one of the world’s biggest mysteries of all time. Let alone her abilities, her intentions are quite undecipherable too. She slaps on the make-up, dresses up sensually, walks out into the open and accuses men of staring at her. ‘Gimme a break!’ You want to be looked at. Attention is one of the basic necessities of womankind and yet she tries to hide this by accusing men of attending to her, all the while, no doubt, enjoying all of it.

Today she continues to holler out for status on par with men on one hand,and on the other hand, spends her energy in getting reservations for women. Who in their right minds wanting equality would call out for reservations? I guess the answer is no one, as women are obviously not in their right minds. For God’s sake, get a grip on yourselves, ladies! I would suggest you clear your minds and then think what exactly is it that you want or what exactly is your purpose. Not that it will help, but at least for those fleeting few seconds mankind will have peace.

SHE ON HE…

– Divya

Walking through the woods or even the concrete jungles of today’s existence for a nice solitary interlude, you are rudely jolted out of your sense of wellbeing by ‘our favourite social creature’ – Man. He has taken it upon himself to offer his assistance, well intentioned of course, to a damsel in distress. You can barely fend off his advances as he tries to demonstrate his ‘ahem’ macho strength. ‘ You seem a little lost ma’am’ – he comments, lording it over you as if it were his own world you were trespassing into. Why is it that men consider themselves the rulers of the planet and ‘poor’ women, their little sub-ordinates or worse, pets for their entertainment! I mean, hey we are of the same species aren’t we? ; though it doesn’t seem very apparent at first sight. The attitude towards the so-called weaker sex has been inbred over millennia globally, though we could say that India is one major hot-spot. Which girl hasn’t experienced a situation where she had to give up something willingly or otherwise, just because she’s a girl? What is the point of all this anyway? Forget now, this has been continuing since the age of the Neanderthal when the man dragged his woman to the cave by her hair. Don’t tell me that guys have gotten over their primate state. They still bare their teeth and glare (‘How dare you disobey me, you puny little twit?’) when you happen to trample on their oh-so-fragile male ego. And they also propound their sacred beliefs to one and all.

Take Adam, he put the blame for his sin squarely on Eve’s shoulders and she in turn transferred it to the snake. That’s inter-species chauvinism but I’m getting off my topic here. Well, anyway the dictionary defines male chauvinism as ‘ an unreasonable, aggressive belief of superiority of the male gender’ and obviously that’s what it is. I mean, holding the door open, paying the bill, taking over the manual labour can be termed chivalry but when it’s done with a long suffering ‘ I have to do it cos’ you can’t’ attitude, we’d rather not have it. And this is not spouting any feminist crap. It’s just stating a simple fact that no girl is a bimbo or incapable of taking care of herself. Sure we’d like some company and probably help too, but not from arrogant, smirking slobs. Any girl who’s all fluttery eyelashes giving ‘Oh, my hero!’ looks is obviously taking you for a ride. Imagine being kicked by the same girl for your high-handed MCP-ness. Wake up and smell the coffee, bro!