This article is submitted anonymously.
This article is submitted anonymously.
This article is submitted by Jaidhara Shah (BA.LL.B. Class of 2020)
When the rape and subsequent murder of the 24 year old physiotherapist at Vile Parle was brought to light, the ancient idiotic discussion on the “dressing” of women and the apparent “westernization” of women was discussed relentlessly. Forget the fact that the girl was at her own home, sleeping at 3 am, without any alcohol or substance in her system and the crime was committed by someone breaking into her house and that clothing has NOTHING to do with the atrocious stuff, but yet, the nation wants to know.
Now, this isn’t an article ranting about the narrow mindset of the likes of Mulayam Singh who blame the woman and dismiss the acts as just “boys being boys”, this is about the resounding need to change the Mindset. The Mindset has become a personality of its own with everyone advocating for the same, but how exactly we to do so is hardly thought of. All this discussion got me thinking that since when has clothing and dressing assumed such an importance?
While it is socially acceptable to wear boxers in the privacy of your house and trousers to Court, when do these distinctions really creep into the system? What better a place to have a free environment than an educational institution since it is supports to educate us, to mold us into better persons and more responsible versions of ourselves?
The problem with dress codes, aside from the fact of convenience is that by reprimanding me from wearing shorts, it becomes okay for someone to judge person X for wearing shorts otherwise. Why shouldn’t it be okay to judge? If it is too provocative to wear to class and is likely to distract members of the either sex from focusing on academics, I have the inherent right to judge. This very judgment makes it acceptable for eve-teasing which leads to molestation and the chain of heinousness continues.
Secondly, by mandating attire, there is further an emphasis on clothing when the intent of dress codes is argued to not have any focus on clothing. If I am wearing track pants and coming to college, why call me out or punish me by not giving attendance or fining me for something I do not think is inappropriate.
Ahh, appropriate brings me to the third point primarily raised, “So tomorrow, it will be okay to wear a bikini to college, so will you allow that too?” I understand students have an image of being stupid, and rightly so, but our common sensibilities do prevail, of what we should wear and the city and surrounding I am in.
The final argument I encountered is of safety. But, when does this argument or cloak end? What is the limit set for the same? Ripped jeans are banned in some colleges, jeans aren’t allowed in certain medical and other colleges, so when does this end?
Rather, by removing dress codes, and uniforms, there is no importance attached to clothing, and the true importance of learning, of free thinking and of a progressive and a conducive environment can be achieved. We are a nation of prohibition and restriction. Let’s try being one of freedom and it starts from none other than educational institutions, the pioneers of changing us to our best.
This article is submitted anonymously.
Sometimes world is on a collision course, and we just don’t know it. Whether it’s by accident or by design, there’s not a thing we can do about it.
A woman was on her way to go shopping, but she had forgotten her Patanjali GauMutra Swadeshi Moisturizer – went back to get it. When she had gotten Patanjali Gau Mutra Swadeshi Moisturizer, the phone had rung, so she’d stopped to answer it; talked for a couple of minutes. While the woman was on the phone, the Eastern Book Company Design Head named Lajwanti was at home rehearsing for a wedding toast for a friend who was getting married at 4.20pm (Subh Mahurat) that day. And while she was rehearsing, the woman, off the phone now, had gone outside to get a rickshaw. Now a rickshawala had dropped off a fare earlier and had stopped for some chai-sutta. And all the while, Lajwanti was rehearsing. And this rickshawala, who dropped off the earlier fare; who’d stopped for chai-sutta, had picked up the lady who was going to shopping, and had missed getting an earlier rickshaw. The rickshaw had to stop for a man crossing the street, who had left for work five minutes later than he normally did, because he forgot to set off his alarm. While that man, late for work, was crossing the street, Lajwanti had finished rehearsing, and was taking a dump. And while Lajwanti was taking a gigantic shit, the rickshaw was waiting outside a boutique for the woman to pick up a package, which hadn’t been wrapped yet, because the girl who was supposed to wrap it had broken up with her boyfriend the night before, and thus forgot. When the package was wrapped, the woman, who was back in the rickshaw, was blocked by a delivery truck, all the while Lajwanti was getting dressed. The delivery truck pulled away and the rickshaw was able to move, while Lajwanti had to replace the toilet paper, which ran out. While the rickshaw stopped, waiting for a traffic light, Lajwanti came out the back of the building.
And if only one thing had happened differently: if there was slightly more toilet paper; or that delivery truck had moved moments earlier; or that package had been wrapped and ready, because the girl hadn’t broken up with her boyfriend; or that man had set his alarm and got up five minutes earlier; or that rickshawala hadn’t stopped for chai-sutta; or that woman had remembered her Patanjali GauMutra Swadeshi Moisturizer, and got into an earlier rickshaw, Lajwanti would’ve crossed the street, and the rickshaw would’ve driven by.
But, that rickshaw did not go by, and that rickshawala was momentarily distracted, and that rickshaw hit Lajwanti, and her leg was crushed. She did not make it in time to office to notice that the stupid fucking intern had not bothered aligning the dust jackets of the Supreme Court on Penal Code books, which was published as is.
PS: Read Benjamin Button script.
This article is submitted by Lakshmi Srinivasan (BA.LL.B. Class of 2018)
More emphasis on ‘Tamilian’. This is because gone are the days when the territory beyond Solapur was called ‘Madras’ and people uniformly addressed as ‘Madrasis’. While this belief may be prevalent in Mumbai, it is predominantly and annoyingly emphasized upon in NMIMS. So probably, the only people I feel who understand my position are the cleaning staff, who are incidentally from Salem, South of ‘Madras’ (Disclaimer : the word is misspelled, not to be pronounced as Abu Salem)
So now that the keypad is handed to me, I choose to debunk some myths about Madrasis geographically and culturally.
1. You are a Tamilian from where?
The one way you can gauge the amount of geographical attention and common sense a person has in NMIMS, it is when someone says the above. I think the state makers tried to make it logical for people to understand a Tamilian’s origin. Yet for those who choose to remain blissfully unaware, here is a so-called Madrasi breaking their bubble.
See, Madras was quite big for administration. Which is why the blessed souls making states decided to have five states with different types of people and cultures: Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, Telangana, Kerala, Tamil Nadu. But it is still very difficult to identify which state Tamilians are from, ain’t it?
2. You are a Tamilian, so you speak Malayalam?
Don’t the English speak French? Don’t the French speak Spanish? Don’t the Spanish speak English with the hard pronunciations? This question takes the same color.
The moment when someone asks me the question, I feel like saying ‘unfortunately no, but I aspire to’. In case the bulb refuses to switch on, Tamilians speak Tamil.
3. Aren’t you from Sri Lanka? LTTE must be your baby..
Ya.. Sure it is. I am as much a Sri Lankan as you are a Caucasian, Mr. NMIMS student. LTTE is such a blessed organization that has made a one small step to screw every Tamilian’s happiness. Mr. Prabhakaran, are you listening?
4. All your languages are the same and have jalebis as a script!
Ouch! Sure! All your languages have scripts like green chillies! Burn!
I wish our languages are that mouth watering, but they are not. And surely Tamil and Malayalam are as same as Marathi and Gujarati, aren’t they?
5. My most favorite : you must be having idlis and dosas all the time? The canteen South Indian food is amazing isn’t it?
For all the Aditi Lovers, the Sambhar out there is just a spicier version of Jaggery syrup. My hunt is still on for the pulses in that, but hard luck!
When a person has better idlis made at home, why would that Tamilian eat South Indian at our canteen? Even if I have 25 bucks on me, I would prefer the vada pav over the Sada Dosa there.
But hang on, did I just make a logical argument in NMIMS?
This article is written by Chaitanya Suri (BA.LL.B. Class of 2021)
Mumbai is a city of rags and riches. It’s full of dreamers and hard-laborers, starlets and gangsters, stray dogs and exotic birds, artists and servants and fisherfolk and crorepatis (millionaires) and lots and lots of people. It has India’s most prolific film industry, some of Asia’s biggest slums (as well as the world’s most expensive home) and the largest tropical forest in an urban zone. Mumbai is India’s financial powerhouse, fashion epicentre and a pulse point of religious tension.
It’s even evolved its own language, Bambaiya Hindi, which is a mix of…everything. Doesn’t it all seem a cock up? It’s normal for a newbie in this city to get lost in the chaos. Specifically when a person (like me) comes from a city known for it’s nonchaotic organized life (Chandigarh). The one thing Mumbai doesn’t and probably won’t be able to offer for the foreseeable future is tranquil life to its residents. It’s always bustling with people hoping for a better future but don’t feel gutted, this city ain’t a damp squid.
I, for one, have happily adjusted to this whole enchilada this city has to offer. So much so that I miss this lifestyle when I’m back home. Mumbaikars have the perfect life balance. Yes, Mumbaikars work (a lot) but don’t let that fool you. They refuse to compromise on their recreational activities. Just hop into in any pub or visit a beach, places are full with people. Also, they are the friendliest people in the country, always there to help.
Although Mumbai is the front door to India, don’t let it be your introduction to India. This city is unique to itself, a shining star blinking on the map of India. Sure it has its fair share of traffic woes, the infamous monsoons (more on this later), never ending slums, polluted beaches (Juhu beach, anyone?), lack of open spaces but it passably sustains the 21 million people who call this city their home. The city offers relatively good infrastructure, uninterrupted power supply being on of them. The local trains are indeed the arteries of this city, transporting millions of people to and back from work everyday. They have had immense contribution towards the economic growth of the city, without it Mumbai couldn’t what it is today.
People find the food in Mumbai scrummy and rightly so. There is street food which is perfect to fill the stomachs of every person with content, specially the humongous student population of the city . There’s no shortage of lavish restaurants offering all kinds of delicacies.
Now to the weather. For most part of the year, you’ll remain wet either due to the sweat or due to the rains. The monsoons are particularly pitiless on this city. Some people hate the monsoon season, some fall in love with it. I’m part of the latter group. Also, unlike the brass monkey weather in my hometown, Mumbai’s weather is ace during the winter season. Pulling off a sweater is more of a fashion statement than using it for the purpose it is intended for. If you are not a winter person, I’m sure you’ll do cartwheels.
I intended to do a rant about Mumbai but it turns out I myself wasn’t aware of my love for this city. Such is the blinding effect of this city on it’s people. Everything is plausible in this city of dreamers and workaholics.