Life As I Know It

Live journal is where I vent my feelings about my college, though that wasn’t the initial purpose of the blog, but looks like I have way too many problems and very few tools and skills to deal with them. For example, we have our internals going on this week and that’s alright, but the fact that we still have to visit the court and the chambers during test week is way too hectic. My day begins at 6 am, classes commence at 8:30am and end at 2:00 pm, 3:00 pm I have to either go to the court or have our weekly journal checking so this gets over by 5:00 and then I have one and a half hours to myself, of which 20 mins are lost traveling from college to home. Then at 6:30 pm I have to leave for the chamber and by the time I get back its 9:15-9:30. That’s a regular day in my life and the rains aren’t making things easy. So here is what happened on 22.10.2008, while I was leaving college one of the lecturer tells me that I have to got to a high school as a representative of our college and gi

I had been having bad hair day(s) so I asked my mom to trim my tresses for me. It’s a mother-daughter thing; my mom usually trims my hair. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t notice that my mom was all grumpy today and armed with the scissors she began chopping. Once it was over, trust me I probably should have taken a snap, my hair looked like a rat had chewed on it and my mom had cut it sooooo short… it now is only up to my shoulders. Damn even the boys are going to give me a complex now. So my bad hair day escalated to being the worst hair day. Armed with a scarf I sat on my activa and rushed to the nearest parlor which is like 8 kilometers away from where I live. I cried my woes out to the lady, who calmed me down and promised not to shorten the remains of my crown any further. Once she was done my hair-do looks presentable and nice. (Yes nice) After what happened, I thought I’d never ever have a good hair day ever again. Well now I at least have a normal hair day! ( Moral of the story,

Statutory Notice: Please look into the sententia legis and not the litera legis. Today like every other Saturday since I began final year has been tiring. After each village visit, I tell myself that I should blog about the visit. There is plenty that happens at the village that’s worth blogging, like today my friend and I were being followed by a drunk man, after a while the stalking got creepy and my friend and I started running. (We probably overreacted, but the guy was very creepy so our act is justified). Then there was this buffalo that decided to stalk us, and it followed us wherever we went and then finally we managed to lose it. Met a very old woman at the village who started weeping when she told us her problems and I almost removed all the cash I had on me to give the woman. My friend asked me not to do that because we have to visit the same village for 6 months and if word gets out that we are distributing money, my parents will probably have to support the whole village.

People say, college is the best time of ones life and once it's gone you'll miss it and blah blah blah yak yak yak... YA RIGHT! I've been doing my victorious warrior jig since the day I gave my 8th semester exam because that now leaves just one more year in my college. I'm not saying my college is bad, it's just that there are plenty of rotten people in it. When I say rotten, I mean dirty, stinking rotten, so rotten that even if you close your nose real tight you'll manage to smell it and the excessive rottenness kind of leaves an after effect which one cannot get rid off no matter how hard you smell something good. What happened yesterday was a standing testimonial for how rotten people in my college are. I got a 33 on my transfer of property paper, which was a shock, but then I got to know who corrected my paper and then it wasn't much of a shock. The lecturer who corrected my paper had made it public that she'd corrected our papers under the universit

The first time I represented my college for a moot court competition was at Kerala Law Academy. It is the best National Level Moot Court Competition in the country. The problem is usually with respect to violation of Fundamental Rights. It being my first time at a competition out of the college I was obviously a little apprehensive. I'd finally know if I could actually moot and place my arguments before a panel of judges. In college the judges for our competitions are lecturers, and they don't make me nervous, so when I moot in front of them there is no lacking in my confidence. We reached Perurkada and were escorted to the girls hostel, that's where we were to stay for the duration of the competition. In the afternoon we were to go register our team and we would be given our team code. On our way to the registration counter we passed by the other teams and they looked nervous and were trying to do their best to hide it. When i'm nervous I don't really absorb whats

Here I am, pecking at my keyboard with my one good hand. I fractured my left wrist so it's out of order for the next 4 weeks. So my first post is a dedication to my left hand. As a kid i'd always wanted to fracture my hand because of all the attention and kids really love showing off their bruises and the bigger the band-aid the better. I used to envy every kid with a broken bone. What I wished as a child i'm experiencing as an adult and quite frankly, the novelty of a fracture is now totally lost on me. Of course the attention and concern is nice but then I prefer having both my hands functioning. There is another reason behind me not milking my whole sorry situation for what it's worth, that is because the story behind the fall is not so very dramatic, nobody can guess the way it all happened. When people see me they all ask me if I fell off my vehicle, next they ask if I was up to some mischief on the trees or if I was trying to jump from a height for cheap thril

Gandhi is an icon to many, because of the principles he advocated and also for the role he played in the history of Indian independence. As it is his birthday today we see his name flashed on each and every page of the news papers quoting him. We tend to forget Lal Bahadur Shastri amidst all of Gandhi’s glory. Gandhi has never been my icon yet curiosity made me read," My experiments with truth" and to state it frankly I thought the man was slightly cuckoo in the head. I started reading the book to get an insight into his life and not to know every detail of him trying to control his libido to his 'supposedly' cleaning the toilets. I’m sure the man meant well, but if you go back to the pages where he is describing the day he and his followers went to clean the toilets, he mentions names of individuals, his wife Kasthurba included. Not once does he mention being a part of the whole of the activity, so it’s clear to the reader that he was merely a by-stander. I’d say th