#HootForMoot #NMCC_2K17 : The hollow charade of threats

This article is submitted anonymously.
The shameless scare tactics employed to fill an auditorium resonate only hollowness if students are forced to sit in all day only to be eye candy for few photographs. It is a pointless charade that reduces adult human beings to mere objects for gratification.
Please note, this has nothing to do with the fact that students are being intimidated to attend on a Sunday. The very idea of intimidating students is an horrid one on any given day of any month. I do not appreciate being threatened with attendance every second day in Law School.
I was going to attend the Final Round simply because the spectacle of averments amuse me. However, I no longer wish to do so, as a sign of protest against the fact SVKM’s NMIMS School of Law National Moot Court Competition 2017 (NMCC) chose threats before appealing to my innate sensibilities.
They chose threats rather than telling me about razor sharp judges ripping through argument. Or the appeal of seeing participants from around the country finding their way through multifaceted tax laws. Or simply a request to help out my colleagues in the Organizing Committee.

It is sad.

Editorial Note: We entertain views from all sides of any argument. Rebuttals are always more effective. You know where to reach us. 
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Tasting Life Mumbai Style – A New Beginning

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This article is submitted anonymously.

And the wait was over. Moving to a new city had its own feel. With the freedom of living alone came the fear of getting lost in your own thoughts. Days turned into months but everything is still afresh in my mind. The first time I sat in the locals, the night I came in after my curfew time, the day I cried a lot because home was faraway and the day I made new friends.
Mumbai has a charm if its own. It doesn’t let you down. Be it the cheap vada pavs or the expensive Pizza by the Bay, the Novotel or Juhu Chowpatty. It has a place for one and all. This wasn’t the first time I had visited this city, but it was the first time I could call this place a second home. The city gives you the chance to be yourself. It is intimidating to talk to the Mumbaikars, they are all very talented and different. They are straight-forward, impersonal people, who believe in “hard work is the only thing that pays off”, who are non-judgmental and have a smile on their face, no matter how bad their day has been. But, they make you feel like you are one of them. They won’t let you feel any less talented. Acceptance is their best quality.
This place will never let you feel lonely. Life is fast, sure, but only if you do something productive and not sleep all day long ( I don’t know why am I saying this). The sound of waves at the beach or the Marines, the sound of the locals at every few kilometres, the honking of cars at every signal or the sound of people running around to reach their offices on time. Everyone here is chasing their dreams and in the chaos, they find order and that is why life is fast here. Everyone is here with goals, goals that they want to fulfill. That is how you survive in this city.
What do I miss about my hometown? Well, there isn’t a lot of things, as Kolkata is a big city and the lifestyle is similar to that of Mumbai. The Ganpati festival in Mumbai reminds me of the Durga Pujo of Bengal. The street shops of Bandra and Colaba are close competitors to the New Market in Kolkata. The sunrise and sunsets at the Juhu flood my mind with the memory of the River Ganga and the scenic beauty of the city. What Bom-Bae can’t compensate for is the people back at my place, the food my mom cooks, the mouth watering Bangali sweets and Samosas and the independence I had living there for the last 18 years of my life.
It has just been few months, many more are yet to come. There are going to be days when I will miss home more than the freedom I have in Mumbai. There are going to be days when I will forget to talk to my mother because I was too busy exploring the city. But in the end of it all, no matter where I end up 5 years down the line, I have and am learning new ways to live with different people in an all new city. Everyday is a lesson in itself and every morning I wake up with a desire to learn something new. Mumbai has made me a confident, brave and an emotional person and there is much more to this journey.
I guess I’ll just hold on and see what is in store for me.

Unintended Consequences

SC on Penal Code

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.

Mana nahin kar rahe hain, lekin permission leni chahiya na

Permission

This article is submitted anonymously.

I am a victim. I am a part of the system. I have been there, done that.

I am an enthusiastic ex-organizer. Ex, for many reasons, one of which I will talk about elaborately in this article. I have voluntarily organised nearly 3 events in NMIMS, and aided a few others while they were being organised. One of the major upside of having an authoritative position, was being able to tell people that you had an authoritative position. Unfortunately, it ends there. This, in NMIMS School of Law, is essentially the person who manages everything between the students and the administration.

The NMIMS administration. Ah. That glorious body, whose sole purpose is to discourage a student from organizing an event anywhere ever. The administration department of NMIMS School of Law is not evil, it is simply frustrating. The purpose of the administration department is to create a system helpful for the students, to encourage them to approach the authorities. In SOL, not so much. The admin department hides behind the garb of paperwork to make sure that the spirit of the student is utterly crushed by the time his approval is in place. With their patented dialogue, “You are future lawyers, you need to rely on paperwork”, they have managed to singlehandedly jeopardize the entire environment by the sheer number of applications and paper they ask the students to print (mostly using the student’s money). The NMIMS SOL office makes you type applications so that you can be allowed to write applications, so that you can go ahead and get the permission to have access to class till 8, which they will eventually rescind anyway, because why not. People who have organised events in SOL know the importance of a team just for typing and submitting applications. It doesn’t matter if you are just planning an event or if you are LITERALLY IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ONGOING EVENT, if they want an application, you’ll need to give it.

In my college, everyone wants an event to happen. The students, the committees, the student council, even the admin department. The students help by volunteering, the committees by organizing, the council by aiding, and the admin department, by, well…the admin department doesn’t help organize events. It helps build your resilience though, and is extremely good if you want to have field tests for your anger management techniques.

This might look a lot like a rant that’s pretty much uncalled for against people doing their jobs, but it’s not. It is a plea. A cry for help, a cry for change. A cry by someone who once wanted to change the system, who once wanted to be able to help the college, who wanted to create a “Culture” in the college. I was once an enthusiastic worker, and worked outside of the system just so that I could help the people who wanted to do something. Then I joined the System, and it all went downhill.

It’s not like I didn’t try to change the system either. So many suggestions have fallen on deaf ears up until now, that the suggestions that are actually paid heed to seem out of line now. The best solution would be to keep one, just one point person in the admin department for the students to have contact with. That one point person then goes and gets the approvals, and guides the documentation. Sneha ma’am has to a certain point filled that role, but in her seat, there was only so much she could’ve done. Another simple solution was to reduce the number of signatures required. If the signature of just the faculty head would be authority enough, getting approvals would’ve been so much more convenient and faster. Another simple yet obvious solution would be to assign faculty heads who know about the committees’ mandate. A faculty head who knows how things happen and what is to be done, is more of a boon to a committee than any outsider would understand.

But I see hope. With a few outstanding events being organised in SOL, small but outstanding events, there is hope that the admin department of SOL will learn in time that the larger the event gets, the easier they are supposed to make things go for the students. Someday, SOL will leave its mark on the circuit, and that day, hopefully, all of us will be seen as the harbingers of the Moots and the Debates and the MUNs and Meraki. Or not. It’s a thankless job, and we don’t need to be recognized. We will be just as happy to work from behind the veil as we were to work in the limelight. It’s the results that count and nothing else.

For the time being, my hearty condolences to the Student’s Council.

A Comprehensive Guide to Old Monk

old-monk
This article is submitted anonymously.
Old Monk.
Never have two words inspired such myriad emotions. It is the sugarcane molasses that went to college, got a job at McKinsey analysing fur thickness of Llamas (Dalai is Lama, There is a difference) then called you on seeing the Facebook update of your breakup yelling “Chal daaru peete hai” and then kept refilling Old Monk for you from itself? Wait. What.
Anyway.
What you came for (other than Sasha Grey. Sorry.):

1. You must use CocaCola for the oh so beautiful classic cocktail. Not Diet Coke. Not fucking Pepsi. You must be skinned in silence of the night by a bloodthirsty vigilante if you use Thumps Up when CocaCola is available. Ratio is 2:1, 1 being Monku.

2. Old Monk shots! No, calm your tits you heathen, chugging 30ml doesn’t constitute a shot. Take a glass, plastic if you don’t trust yourself. Dip the rim in salt. Pour 30ml of beloved Monku and 3 drops of lemon juice. That is called a shot.

3. Sure, you can Google to find intricate cocktails involving coconut cream, grenadine, pineapple tea powder and blood of Megyn Kelly. Soon you’ll realize you do not have the cash, the time or inclination to put all that together. You can’t be disappointed. I’ve told you.

4. If you plan to drink neat, don’t. No, no, not being an unkill here. The key is sprinkling 4 drops of water every for every peg of Monku. This ensures all the vicious chemicals evaporate leaving behind the sweet rum with a hint of chocolate.

5. You may pour some Old Monk over a scoop of vanilla ice cream for instant high and/or sugar rush. Sugar helps alcohol digest and enter you blood stream faster. Never forget.

6. A quarter costs Rs.108 in the glorious State of Maharashtra. Half costs Rs.210. Khamba costs Rs. 432. If you happen to be from Karnataka, where Khamba costs Rs.260 if I recall correctly, you may yell bhenchod in your loudest voice. It is noteworthy that I researched how excise duty works because I was outraged by this, including dozens of notifications on stateexcise.maharashtra.gov.in

7. It will be a cold day in hell before Bombay cops give a shit about probable cause for search before asking you for bribes to go away. Which means the publicly intoxicated you with a quarter in brown paper/polythene bag just screams aao mujhe harass karo. To avoid this BT, just pick a comfortable corner, don’t annoy anyone and you can sip on the said elixir on a beach staring at the sunset.

8. You may work on your project/s at 3 am while sipping on Old Monk, the deadline being the same day obviously. However, in the light of the fact that not everyone is a high functioning alcoholic and/or recreational drinker, it is suggested that you experiment with an insignificant project like Legal English.

Cheers!
Lord Krishna will bless.