Saturday, January 26, 2008

FUCHHA FUNDAS

LOCATION- Red-Bricked College Corridors.


SCENE- A noisy bunch of funky clothed youngsters
OOPS!!! I mean PREDATORS on prowl
for their prey.


TARGET- Freshers or First-Years or (as the common
lingo puts it) FUCHHAS.


“You, a Fuchha!!!” “C’mon give your introduction” “Imagine the tree as a pole and do a pole dance” “Go and propose to the girl in red sitting at the farthest corner of the canteen on the right side”.

First day of college life is always memorable, whether bitter or sweet or both, for some. Every FUCHHA in some or the other way looks forward to this age-old ritual of being introduced to their seniors. Being exposed to the world outside is an experience in itself, especially after living a life of a caterpillar in a tight cocoon for 14 years. After spending a dramatic one-year in DU, I am now in a safe position to judge a Fuchha by his or her mere appearance. Agreed that looks are deceptive but they surely cast a certain impression. In fact my brain has been able to successfully categorize these brand new entrants in four types.

STATUORY WARNING: The following information is truly based on personal experience and no offence meant if any person bears resemblance to the same.

The first category of Fuchhas enter the college meekly, hiding behind the bushes or pretending to read a newspaper but keeping a close eye on every senior who are at their regular patrol for ‘ sweet innocent victims’. They are labeled as ‘INTELLECTUAL GEEKS’ carrying a mountain of reference books on their feeble shoulders. They are always visible either hovering in and around the LIBRARY (their place of safe haven) or near the Photostat shops Xeroxing a colossal mass of notes. Regarded as POTENTIAL TOPPERS, these people are always the butt of everyone’s jokes, favourite of the lecturers and live their life in constant fear. Some of these Fuchhas successfully slip out from the regular ragging sessions that takes place and about the others… You guess for yourself.

The second type of Freshers, saunter in the college with a ‘BIG BROTHER’ attitude. A confident non-chalant walk with their head held high and chest forward, their sole object in life is to take on the whole world or, in this case, the entire college. They possess each and every trait of an ideal college ‘DADA’ with Education being the last thing on their mind. But wait a second…an intriguing question raises its ugly head here- how these ‘ hooligans’ manage to gain entry in the college? In spite of the stringent admission process (where even 0.5% can ruin a student’s chances) how these ‘hoodlums’ manage to sneak a foothold in the college? Well Guys, there is no need to wrack your brains, scratch your skull and waste your precious energy for an answer which is pretty evident. Haven’t you heard of something called ‘INFLUENTIAL CONTACTS’? Yes, my dear friends, these ‘FUTURE DAWOOD EBRAHIMS’ have a well-established network of such contacts, which provides them with the courage to boss over almost everyone. Flaunting their links with either any political bigwigs or business tycoons, they leave no stone unturned to create terror in the minds of the people (I mean students, lecturers or even the principal sometimes). These College Gangsters at the same time take adequate steps to suppress those who try to raise even a smallest squeak… Hmmm!!! Bollywood melodramas seem so inspired by them!!!

The Fuchhas belonging to the third category can be aptly termed as ‘FUTURE DIPLOMATS’. Maintaining good relations with both the lecturers and the Fuchha Gundas, they make their way in the college confidently with an aim to gain acceptance from every quarter. Enterprising, hardworking, creative, intelligent and adopting a neutral stance on every issue, these upcoming tacticians are well acquainted with tackling both the rule making and the rule breaking authorities. However, in the process they risk the danger of loosing their identity as sometimes they are left stranded in a no man’s land, disowned by both the parties. Here lays their ability to walk on the razor’s edge without getting bruised and scratched. Indian Political arena welcomes such people with open arms…

The fourth and the final bunch of Freshers are very rare kind of species. Quick-witted, clever, talented, good-natured and way better than the third category of Fuchhas, these people can be aptly termed as the “FUTURE ALL-ROUNDERS”. Excellent in academic as well as non-academic spheres, they are VERSATALITY personified with a tremendous capacity to undertake any task. Keeping in tune with their surroundings and at the same time maintaining a distance, they mean business who hate poking their nose unnecessarily in others matters. With a NO-NONSENSE attitude, they are very popular among their friends, teachers and even among their enemies. Comprising a miniscule minority they are greatly revered by the whole college. Sadly these rare species are nearing extinction and are becoming endangered…

These four categories are found at every nook and corner of the campus and gradually become a part of the growing adult population of the country. Each type has its own merits and demerits but at the end of the day it’s the sense of freedom, the new life that every Intellectual Geek, every Fuchha Gunda, every Future Diplomat and every Future All-Rounder looks forward to… After all it is an absolutely new world to be explored…once the three Golden years of college gone, they are gone forever…So just have Fun!!!

ARE YOU LISTENING FUCCHAS???

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

I AM DEAD

I sit by my window,
The rain drops hitting hard on the glass,
Dripping sound of water fills the air,
And I just stare,
But I hear nothing,
Because I am dead, all dead…



Many people pass by,
Some fight, some talk,
Some girls, some boys,
Some are happy, some are gloomy,
But I see nothing,
Because I am dead, all dead…



I exist on this earth mechanically,
Something that comes automatically,
Used to live here emotionally,
Used to live foolishly,
But now I care nothing,
Because I am dead, all dead…



My mind is puzzled,
My life is muddled,
Nothing attracts me,
Everyone betrayed me,
But I feel nothing,
Because I am dead, all dead…



I have stopped praying,
I have stopped crying,
I have stopped living,
I have stooped enjoying,
And I know nothing,
Because I am dead, all dead…



I have no one to live for,
I have no one to care for,
I have no one to think for,
I have no one to love for,
I have lost everything,
I have lost everyone,
I am dead, all dead…

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

CRICKET MANIA!!!

For the past two weeks of my vacation, I have been glued to the small idiot box. I was struggling hard to finish my quota of entertainment derived from that antique BPL TV set. Programmes galore, or should I say devotional serials, because whatever channel I receive is either an Aastha or some peculiar feed called Jagraan. There you can see some mythical man or saint, sitting, meditating and jabbering away intermittently in Hindi. All thanks to my local cable operator who seems to relish on these sickening programmes. With due respect to its ardent followers and no offence meant, it appears quite fake and artificial. I find it hard to believe that how can an age-old saint supposedly having supernatural powers in today’s globalised world cure people’s diseases in a split second. Had that been the case, we wouldn’t have been witnessing the rampant death of poor people everyday in the dirty fields of some distant village or even in a closely located slum in the middle of the city. Well, I think this would seem quite irrelevant to its viewers.

Now the reason I was sitting on my couch with a chilled glass of carbonated water may sound quite strange to you- the telecast of Cricket matches scheduled next week. They were haunting and bugging me to the core, giving me sleepless nights. These cricket matches have caused a whole lot of havoc and destruction in my life. Disturbing my peace of mind, the cricket frenzy family of mine always drives me crazy whenever a match takes place. My dad will hop from one room to another like a messenger giving regular updates. With every passing second, he will present the first hand scores, the fall of wickets (in case India’s matches, the Indians find the pitch too sticky to ground their feet firmly), runs required to topple down the opposition (in case of Australia who go berserk, smashing down the wire!). On the other hand my elder brother, a commentator in the making, would scream like hell, tear his hair apart and bang his fist on the old wooden table (with shaky legs and corroding paint) whenever the batsman plays a pathetic shot or a bowler pitches the ball in the wrong place. He’ll shout at the top of the voice, “ Why is that nincompoop bowling on the leg side” or “ Why isn’t that idiot moving his feet?” Oh! You get to hear a new word everyday, helping to expand your vocabulary in the process.

Not that I dislike cricket like most of my female counterparts who start fretting and fuming at the name of the game. Neither do I withdraw from the conversation whenever someone mentions Adam Gilchrist’s awesome average nor do I spend half of my time gossiping and chatting solely about the girlie things bestowed by the Almighty on this planet. I am definitely not a part of the, ‘I HATE CRICKET BRIGADE’ and follow the game like any other cricket enthusiast. The proof for my interest lies in the fact that I cover sports as part of the campus newspaper, of which I am a part. For that matter it is not just Cricket that attracts me, I like to watch any kind of sports activity. But what sets me apart from my cricket fanatic family is that I do not go overboard with my interest. I do not go shrieking around the house or howling like a mad wolf. My interest remains restricted to watching the game, to analyze it critically and enjoy as it goes. Cricket is a passion for my brother but it is purely a source of entertainment for me. I do admire him for his in-depth knowledge about the game and his expert opinions are worth listening to. No wonder he can be seen on TV reporting and taking interviews of various sports people.
There is actually no way out left for me. I have been stranded in the middle of nowhere. The Delhi summer has made it impossible to barge out of the house in the day when the sun it at its peak, peeping and looking out of the clouds, keeping a close watch on my activities. So I will have to stay at home and tolerate the ever-growing and ever-increasing shouts, screams, shrieks, banging and a lot of rocking.

Hey what’s that faint sound coming out of the window? Oh it is probably the CRICKET!!! God damn it!!!