Ten Things To Do Before I Leave ACJ~

1. Sneak in, after hours. Without signing in the ‘Late-Register’.
2. Eat all three meals of the day in the mess.
3. Visit the roof. Again.
4. Throw the ‘caretaker’ in the Septic Tank. Preferably with her BFF.
5. Catch the ‘Ghost’ which haunts 302.
6. Submit a duly completed assignment. On time. (Fingers crossed for the elusive A+)
7. Place a wager on the future of the mushrooming couples in college. (How long will the ‘coupling’ actually last after the course gets over?)
8. Bring back the ACJ Newsline, from the land of the dead.
9. Drink a glass of water. You know the kind which is neither yellowy nor translucent and hopefully does not have unmentionable thingies floating in it.
10. Paint the walls… green!

Coming Up: Ten Things To Do Before I Leave Chennai (for good!)



P.S. - For all the non-believers, the view from the hostel roof!

All In A Day's Work

CHENNAI, December 6: As a fresh low pressure trough formed in Bay of Bengal, schools remained closed in ten districts in Tamil Nadu. Nevertheless, this did not deter students of Asian College of Journalism’s (ACJ) New Media stream, also under great pressure, to swim their way through muck, mulch and the likes to reach Alliance Française for a reporting examination.

The 60-odd students braved the deluge of rain to prove their mettle as reporters in a testing environment. While the schools remained closed on Monday, following a long wet weekend, the post graduate students were found traversing the roads of Chennai on a Monday, which for the rest of the city was spent like a Sunday – cosily in bed.

The assignment, which was to report on an Art Exhibition on Bonded Labour, being held at the Alliance Française, from 2nd to 11th December, was considered by many to be a piece of cake. But the proverbial cake vanished the instance the students heard about the recorded 10 cm of rains in the crying city. Overnight, Chennai had turned into a quasi-Cherrapunji.

While the river flowing outside the college campus, joined by the tributary from inside the college, swelled to its utmost, the enterprising students decided to call upon the Muthu Cabs’ Gods for help. Apparently the norm was to waddle your way through the flowing water. But the students got creative. The snakes, crabs and other such creatures, which might be considered delicacies in some remote corners of the world, were not about to make the student’s feet a part of their diet.

The students piled into the overcrowded cabs, praying fervently for the vehicle’s long-life. The jostling for the seats, in one of the cabs, was taken to be a sign of good spirit by the Tamil-speaking driver. The drive to the centre was akin to a sail in a boat in the waters of a polluted lake. The cab’s windows splattered with water and provided absolutely nil view of the road in front. Either the driver could see underwater or he had memorised every twist and turn of the roads. It was a toss between the two.

When the destination finally arrived and the party tumbled out of the cabs, there was noted a collected sigh of relief. The dishevelled travellers then crossed the undying water bodies and stepped onto the dry land of the Alliance Française of Madras. It was a happy gathering.

The first thing one noted when walking inside the exhibition room was the abundance of familiar faces. There were definitely more students than the 30-odd pictures merited. Crowded inside the 15’x12’x12’ room, the visitors to the exhibition were overawed not just by the stoic pictures but by the lack of ventilation. One student felt nauseated by the whole affair and had to be seated on a chair outside the exhibition to calm her nerves down. The board which said only two past this point had been favourably taken down from its usual post, above the door, and lay on the table beside the female prone to fainting fits.

There was a taped Tamil dialogue, playing in the background, lending an eerie sensation to the proceedings. The dialogue was between an owner and his slave which was neither understood by the non-Tamil speaking crowd nor the lone North-Eastern media public relations’ contact from the company. The closed door, at one end of the room signified just that – closure.

Though the students were made aware of the stark pain of the bonded labourers it was the disappointed faces of the latecomers who, when they reached their destination, where notified that the place had to close due to excessive rainfall, that was to haunt everyone.

The exodus back to the college campus was arguably one of the most ironic journeys. The students both wanted the ride back to the safe comforts of their room and at the same time detested the close contact of wet human bodies in a closeted space.

Nevertheless, as the death toll reached 170 on Monday evening, those who managed to make it back safely had reason to be thankful.

Covering Environment (Deprivation-Style)

Have you ever dived in dirty water? You know the kind that stinks more than a week’s cold can handle? Or waded waist-deep in the crappiest of Chennaaay crap. (Literally!) Or just suffered unusually rotten luck? I am sure, the kindred spirits out there will agree to having experienced at least one of the above. But then, my claim stands apart in one particular matter. Yes, I too have done these spectacular things before in my ever happening lyf. But never had I had an awe-inspiring opportunity to do ALL these in one day itself.

Sorely, but surely, the acts mentioned above were performed by a murder of 45 (plus the elusive 46th member of the group). The following activities might astound thee, even get you to raise that eyebrow, but please do not ever question the necessity of pushing a fifty-seater so-not-capable-of-ever-emitting-any-pollution-again bus through the muck and slush of Chennaaay city. Never. It is times lyk these which get you wondering if it would have been better if you had just stayed in your warm bed instead. (Preferably with your stuffed cuddly toy) Just a passing rhetoric thought.

The Highlights of the day included the below mentioned so-berry NOT trivial incidents. Try not to whimper.

~ Witnessing *The Pulicat Effect* One moment being waist-deep in the cleanest of ocean water and the next in the dirtiest of human waste. (Only a diluted version, to make it even more, inhumanly possible, queasier.)
~ Being up to thine thorax in crappy situations is the perfect occasion to pay gloomy attention to the past wrongs of your non-existent lyf.
~ Wading through ankle-deep slushy waters. Without your shoes, hoping the lurking snakes do not fancy your yellow socks. Just not today, please.
~ Standing directly opposite Singapore. Give or take a couple of thousand miles.
~ Munching on hot food standing under the cover of a Fire Station yard.
~ Getting a glimpse of mountains. Priceless.
~Finding out those mountains were made of stacked up rubbish. The price of hundreds of slum-dwellers lives.
~ Gazing at the slick-covered Buckingham Canal.
~ Pitying the extra students who wanted to tag along. Their naïve imaginations had never conjured up shoe-bites as an after-effect to the journey.
~ Wet soggy socks.
~ Pain in places you never knew existed.
~ Lingering smell of sewage the day after.
~ The time of great bonding. I mean, who would disagree with the idea of making friends over a roadful of mulch, pushing a fifty-seater bus in addition. Best Friends Forever in the making.

Nevertheless, 30th of October is definitely etched in my mind as a spectacularly different day. (read different as dirtily different.) In my Over-Achievement award speech I am certainly going to thank my Environment professor. I can just imagine Sir standing in front of the future batches of ACJ wannabe-Environment-students, giving them a review of what to expect on a typical field trip. (We have, of course, set the standard.) But my future juniors are going to be one disappointed lot. Our trip was definitely once-in-a-lifetime journey… all the imaginable stars had aligned to present us with the rottenest luck ever. Such a combination is un/fortunately is possible only once in a googol years (The Grasshopper effect notwithstanding.)

Tales of “Traffic”

Seen your reflection in Chennai’s Porus lake recently?
Thanked the helmet-god when you were saved from a brutal accident?
Heaved a sigh of relief on coming across wide roads?
Appreciated the lack of hawkers on the streets?
Rejoiced over congestion-free free pedestrian pathways?
If you have been a denizen of Chennai city and have had opportunity to exclaim upon any of the above mentioned situations then you have one person to thank – “Traffic” Ramaswamy. Directly or indirectly, the septuagenarian, since he first began in 1998, has managed to file PILs enough to shame the county into improving the traffic scene in Chennai.

Stoplights don’t deter him. Zebra crossings don’t slow him down. T-intersections just signal the start of another fight to be fought. He interprets all road signs as green. Red tape certainly does not limit his speed. Tunneling through the bureaucratic system he has created a subway of safe paths. He may have once stood upon crossroads of life, but there definitely seems to be no end junction to his works. Bypassing all comfort, he has lead a rollercoaster of a life. Plotting his day to day activities around roundabouts which halt the system from functioning properly, he has done what no traffic controller has done before – voluntarily controlled traffic.

You may be a pesky pedestrian or a tattling truck driver, his attitude towards you will always remain the same, of optimistic zeal. Jaywalking on touchy issues, the brave crusader has made a level crossing out of the complicated courtroom jargon. On friendly terms with the local police authorities, he doesn’t stop to consider how much it will cost him as long it’s a matter of right of way. Wielding his weapon of Public Interest Litigations, this new-age, very much real hero, certainly has what it takes- truckloads of enthusiasm and tons of energy. For him, it’s a one way ticket to impacting the public and there is no slowing down till he overtakes the judicial system. Cruising the highway to justice, he definitely doesn’t plan to quit anytime soon.