Valuable Lessons: 5 years in the life of a DU victim

Fodder for thought

We don’t exert sufficient leverage. We are a bunch of hopeless pushovers. We let companies run rampant. We are willing victims of the machinations of manipulative HR personnel*. We are the epitome of pathetic subservience…

RL accuses the placement cell of being a docile cow

I believe his exact words were,

“… so what does that mean? Is the placement cell a cow?”

????

Moooo…

Moooo

*We are also equally manipulative, but that’s another story…

*

The Write Stuff: Words of Wisdom

How do I get myself into these messes? My enthusiasm (or was it joblessness?) will be the death of me. Somehow I managed to have myself appointed as a member of the Editorial Board of the hostel magazine (it may have something to do with the fact that I volunteered). A sad little publication, read by very few outside the circles of those who end up compiling it.

If you’ve ever flipped through one of these things (i.e. emotionally blackmailed into reading it by a friend or just unimaginably bored, those were the only two instances I could think of) you’ll notice the first few pages being hogged by flowery clichéd “messages” from “dignitaries”. Well, somehow the onus of collating that riveting section fell on my shoulders (it may have something to do with the fact that I volunteered... is it just me or does everyone see a pattern to this?). The magazine could simply not go to print without stirring words of encouragement from:

1. the Provost
2. the Resident Tutor
3. the Chairman of the Someortheothersham Committee (a.k.a. SCP)
4. the distinguished member of Wastefultothepointofredundancy Committee (a.k.a. PBN)
5. the Pro-Vice Chancellor (he does after all have a swanky office in the Vice Regal Lodge and all)

and lots more…

I’m really thankful to 3. for exercising his imagination and writing something sweet though not altogether profound. I’m equally thoughtful to 4. for not writing anything at all and giving us an extra page to play around with. 1. and 2. opted for recycling their last year’s messages word for word. 5. however proved to be a challenge, at least his peon did (I never actually did meet 5., in fact I’m beginning to wonder if 5. even exists). He asked me to imagine what I would like 5. to have said and just submit that for his signature since “voh bahut beezee rehte hain”. To channel my creative energies and compose something suitable.

I twiddled my thumbs for a bit and took a leaf out of 1. and 2.’s book, re-submitting the Pro VC's epistle from last year's edition. It was the most creative shortcut I have ever taken.

*

The Form is Dead, Long Live the Form

I recently filled out the last university examination form of my life. As usual I went about it in my trademark style, leaving it for the last possible day. It was however a marked improvement from the previous time around, when I actually had to cough up a fine for submitting it two days late. DU loves extracting money from its hapless victims and I have proven to be more than obliging on several occasions.

I don’t really know why I procrastinate with form filling and such like official procedures. I mean I procrastinate about most things, but to forms I’m well near allergic. Something about all those blanks to be filled, boxes to be ticked, signatures to signature, numbers to fill in… they just give me the heebie jeebies. I’m always paranoid about messing it up (destroying it to the extent that no amount of over-writing or that gooey white correction fluid can rescue the damn thing) and having to ask for another one.

I think I’m just terrified of being subjected to admonishment from disgruntled office staff. I hate to generalise, but I’ve never known office staff to be anything but disgruntled. At least Pande Ji goes about inflicting public humiliation it in a funny, genial way. Some folks down at Stephen’s (Vasantha, the evil banshee who presides over the transcript racket and who could forget the "Fat Lady", who spends her days yacking, yawning, scanning the DT, taking inordinately long lunch/tea breaks… she occasionally works too) could damn near reduce you to tears.

Usually, just the thought of having to submit office paperwork is enough to give me sweaty palms, sleepless nights etc. I’ve never applied for a re-evaluation or to take an improvement. And not just because my academic performance did not merit such action. But because of a deadly cocktail of fear and laziness.

Surprisingly, this last form was a breeze. I filled it up in less than ten minutes without having to double or triple check any of its contents. Pande Ji gave me two thumbs up for a superlative performance (“placement sahiba, dus mein se dus number se utteern ho gayin hai”). Which is sad in a way. No, not because I take some perverse pleasure out of my own discomfort. But because it took me 5 years to master the art of dealing with the bureaucratic rigmarole that is DU. And now its time to leave. Sigh...

*

I’m sure the coming years will bring me face to face with creative name-calling (with or without reference to my bovine-ness), annoying accusations and scary amounts of red tape. The silver lining, if any, is that life thus far seems to have equipped me with the ability to work with and around it.

That, and the ability to not take myself too seriously. Which is about my most prized possession. If the world is going to laugh at you, the best bet is to beat them to it.