The Election In My College!

That's three years earlier than Philip Larkin's Annus Mirabilis which changed the rules of courtship.

Favourites? taking of favourites, let me wield the privilege of being a woman for once and tell you the other side of the story. Guys are no less picky with their favourites. Mind, they not only identify their favourites within the campus walls but the taxonomy of woo-ship stretches and envelopes the city borders. A typical rulebook for an adolescent city-slicker reads: (1) Girls from heavily anglicized St Anne's or St Mary's or other Saintly College play hard to get. Don't go after them though one might mistake them for ethereal and milky beauties descended from heaven. (2) Girls from bourgeoisie colleges are plaited and groomed and agreeable, however, they would invariably start and end their lines with "talk to my parents" to the utter impairment of a guy. (3) Girls from colleges taken after names of great Indian philosophers and spiritual leaders command no attention whatsoever.

I spent a year in category (3) educational institute and realised to my puzzlement that not even rickshaw pullers wait upon the girl students there. It was rumoured that this was the nexus where the hatchet-faced girls colluded to sabotage the well-disposed plans of smitten boys sneaking up the walls in other appealing colleges. What can I say, girls have their own woes which creep in with enrolment in the wrong college to begin with. All the Lunas, Hondas and Bullets revved around these other prestigious colleges and not even a cake festival at our college could lure one of those "shapeless sack of soiled potatoes."

College elections are fun! I used to keep myself away from that brouhaha but the slogans and posters are fun to watch. Who knows, if I had contested in stealth, away from the prying eyes of my parents, my college would have shuddered to a Golda Meir in me.

Note, I loved this blog. It is very relatable across all genders as every side has their untold swoon and ache which transpires as foiled election campaign or fermented cake batter.

 

Ardipithecus? Do I know him? I would have said emphatically, sure I do, if my Google had not let me down today!

What a discovery! The characters from Bahubali movie can now trace back their ancestry to this A. ramidus and A. kadabba in Ardipithecus' family tree (glowing bulb!)

Mind you, this is pre-FB, pre-Twitter, pre-Snapchat era. I won't be surprised if this linear three-tier system exploded into a branched multi-tier system amongst the young digiterati of today. I have observed that our conversations, irrelevant to the original topic, invariably converge at boy-girl dating woes. Guess these grouses are timeless and don't smooth out over the ages, in fact, the growing unrest only compounds such predicaments of paying court to those who hardly know that we even exist.