Nationally yours

Change is inevitable.

Without much further ado, here are a few things that should change about India keeping in mind our sensibilities.

• National sport: Spitting-->Move over hockey. The new sport that's taken the nation by a storm is spitting.It's not just paan mind you, spitting saliva, spitting wrappers just about anything and everything. The golden rule being what is in must come out. Spit when you're bored, spit when you're not. All the road is a spitoon and all men (and women) are mere spits-men.(Mr. Shakespeare, please don't turn in your grave at this humble attempt of mine in trying to imitate your inimitable style). And remember to add sound effects when you spit, "Aaaaak-thoo" is the most common example. And a country that's obsessed with freebies, the bonus deal that it gets with this is free Tuberculosis and redder roads. Amazing right?!

• National animal: Mosquitoes/ Houseflies-->Why have an animal of which only 1411 specimens are left, as your national animal and then go through all the humiliation of not being able to safeguard your national animal. Try conferring the coveted status to Mosquitoes or Houseflies. They're in abundance. You'll never have to face a crisis of fussing over how to save your national animal. And "Makkhi the club" sounds better than "Stripey the club" naa? And your new tagline could be 'Save the Makkhis-only 1411 billion left!'

• National bird: Crows--> They're everywhere. I had to wait till I was 7 years old to see a peacock. But I'm sure I had seen a crow in the first week of my birth. And they work brilliantly as morning alarms, help is boosting the detergent sales (Read: bird shit) and making Ram Gopal Varma's movies seem slightly eerie. Way to go Crow! (Did that just rhyme?)

• National language: Facebook/Orkut/Chat lingo--> Now with states having issues over the use of Hindi because it is way too "North-Indian" a language and with English being the language of the Queen and a mark of British superiority over us, the question arises as to what the national language should be. The answer is simple. "Dudes/Dudettes Y dun ya try da chat lingo. 'Tis Kewl nd u'll be kewler if u use it." And everybody all over the country knows it and none of our politicians will have a problem with it!

• National anthem: Dhan te nan--> I've seen the lines of distress on people's faces when they're supposed to stand for the national anthem before the start of a movie. And before you hear the last 'Jaya He' people are already plonked back onto their seats. However, the Kaminey song can sure make them stand in respect (and sway a little too).

• National flower: Cauliflower--> Why should lotus get the coveted status of being the national flower? Just because it's pretty, eh? Nobody, ever thought of the humble 'gobhi ka phool'. What would our Mother's ever do without it's versatile existence? I hear a kitchen crisis! Love it or loathe it, you're sure to have had it! :|

• National song: Beedi jalaiyle--> A lot of people aren't even aware that Vande Mataram is our National song and the Sanskrit lyrics are way too complicated for most. So how does the prospect of Beedi Jalaiyle sound? Very hum-able song, nothing complicated about the lyrics, connects with the classes and masses alike AND everybody knows it already!

Disclaimer: For those who are a little slow, this post is intended to be sarcastic.

My First Job That Lasted Four Days.

Your first job is always supposed to be special right? The one that you'll remember forever? My first job lasted 4 days. But I had experiences that I'll remember over a lifetime. They weren't very pleasant, mind you, but surely interesting anecdotes which I can narrate to my grandchildren.

I wont name lawyer who I interned with lest they file a defamation suit against me which will entitle me to end up in one of those shabby courtrooms again. So without taking any names, here it goes..

Oh, before we proceed here are a few Facebook status updates over the past few days:

• If they made a movie about my day today it'll definitely be called 'Unhappy Feet'
• Five courts in 3 days! Phew.
• Its only been 4 days. I'm fed up of the monotony already!
• Been to the most elite and shabbiest courtrooms. Lesson learnt: Never enter litigation

So as you would have guessed unless there's some serious disorientation happening in your grey matter, it wasn't a very enjoyable experience. My purpose of taking up the internship was that I'll learn a thing or two about law which I've been unable to learn inspite of studying in one of the renowned law schools of the country for two years. However, this was not to be.

So over the past few days I've done jobs ranging from that of an office boy(75%) to a secretary(10%) and an intern (5%). And by now, I know every nook and corner of the Bombay High Court. I'm wondering if I should become a guide in the chaotic court.

So, my first day involved me going to the High Court and meeting with the lawyer's junior. Let's call her Advocate SR. I was given a number by my ex-boss of 4 days and was told to call on the number and ask for his assistant. I dial the number and the caller tune that wafts out, brace yourself, is "We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year". Christmas and new year in the 2nd week of June! You must be kidding! Then this woman answers the phone in a strange accent and goes like "Hello Meidum, aap kaun bol rahe ho" Me: Uh, Hello, sir ne kaha hai aapse milne ko." SR: "Toh third floor pe aa jaaiye na meidum" (Left me wondering if main was dumb to land myself in this place). So then I go to the third floor, climbing about 4 dozen stairs puffing and panting only to realise that the weirdo wanted me to go down to the first floor to some courtroom.

I entered the courtroom and was almost jumping with joy on account of the fact that it was airconditioned. Little did I know that my happiness would be shortlived. She then tells me that we have other important work to do and we need to go to the third floor yet again. This time we could use the elevator. And as a random ice breaker I happened to ask her the name of the judge in the courtroom. She looks at me stunned. "Tumhe nahi pata!" "Tumhari community ka hi to hai". So I'm wondering how is it that a surd belongs to my community. "Oh, tum Punjabi nahi ho?" "Toh fir tum kya ho?" Me: "Err..Marwari" "Ohhhh Marwari, Gujju Ben huh?" Me: "Huh...Nahee..Rajasthan" "Marwaris are Rajasthanis also?"

So, now we reach the third floor finally and I get to meet my boss. A 45+ crescent bald, pudgy person reading a newspaper. Welcome. It's lunch time now.

The junior advocate enthusiastically showed me a 6ftX4ft room embellished with rusty lockers and dusty files where they had lunch everyday. I was convinced that I would die of asphyxiation by inhaling excessive dust. I survived to tell the tale. Then she told me as softly as she could that there were washrooms on the ground floor, first floor and third floor. Yes, as if the odour and signs weren't good indicators. But anyway, she was being courteous and kind I thought. Then as we go to the Bar Association Room she remarks about the fact how hot it is. And I go like "Yeah it is, you're sweating so much". Then she grunts while laughing though I never intended it to be a joke in the first place. The joke was being played on me all this while. Then I am told to take down a few dictations and type out a 10 page report and submit it by tomorrow. I take it in my stride, thinking this would have been the busiest first day in anyone's life. I back home. Happy. My feet were ridden with shoe-bites. And for once I was able to sympathise with Victoria Beckham for being able to wear those 5 inch heels. Mine were 3 inch BTW.

*End of day One*

Next day I was supposed to go to the Bombay City Civil Court (BCCC) and reach there at sharp 11 a.m. The only problem was I didn't know where the blessed place was. She told me to ask people about it. Anyone would know after all. And it was walking distance. So, I reach the High Court and ask one of the policemen deployed there where the BCCC was. I asked several policemen in succession. The only answer I got was "Pudhe" (which means 'ahead' in case you don't know). So after walking about 2 kilometres and encountering a dozen lawyers who looked like ciggy addicts, I reached the BCCC. Now, the problem with BCCC is that the place doesn't get any network. So unless you know beforehand where a person is there is no means by which you can find someone. After scouring 3 floors (on foot, mind you) I finally found her only to know that the work in the BCCC was complete and we were now required to go back to the High Court. Dude, WTF! So then I discovered a shortcut of going back to the High Court. The footpath was lined with coconut vendors and a bookseller who seemed to have second hand copies of every book I hadn't heard of. Now, on reaching the High Court, we were told to sit in a courtroom to keep a watch on the proceedings of the case of a certain elderly lady. After the 2 longest hours of my life, her case was taken up by the Honourable judge. Two minutes later, they realised that certain documents were missing, so the case had to be put up for hearing the next day. My job was to ask the 'Shirastidar' to let me have a look at the file submitted by the lawyers and allow me to take photocopies. Interesting, very interesting-Not! By now, it was 3 p.m. and my stomach had started groaning and protesting for lack of food. Who cares about the poor intern anyway? After getting the photocopies done, I was instructed to come to the Sessions court which mind you is in the same building as the BCCC. Again, it involved going through the shit laden footpaths accessorised with beggars, booksellers and unhygienic juice centres.

I reached the Sessions Court. Saw Justice ML Tahiliyani-yes the same person who handed over the death sentence to Kasab. Fascinating stuff. But my job was to go to court room no. 32 and find out to what date the case had been adjourned. I was told that the opposing party had gone to ask for a stay on the case. Another 1 hour wait in the sweltering heat of Mumbai city in a courtroom who's clerks were interested only in chewing 'gutka' When the opposing party finally came back, I was told something in a language I didnt understand. Had to wait for another half an hour to figure out what the adjourned date was. FML.

I came back to the High Court.By now I was sweating like a pig. The Junior tells me "Sangat ka asar hai, ab toh aapko bhi pasina aa raha hai". *khi khi khi* *grunt grunt*. I notice that there are more lawyers sitting with the boss. And the boss is sneezing like a maniac without as much of a courtesy as putting a handkerchief on his mouth. Rhinovirus inflitration. Arrrgh! A cold is the last thing I want in the sickly Bombay weather.

I was told that I had to go to the Metropolitan Magistrate's court the next day at this place called 'Bhoiwada'.I was supposed to meet the junior at the Elphinstone road station. Before leaving, the Junior again asked me whether I wanted to make a trip to the washroom before I leave. I said a polite no. Long day. It has started to get to me already. *Sigh*

*End of day Two*

It's a new day. I hope it goes fine. Bhoiwada court today. So I take a train to Elphinstone road station and wait there patiently for the Junior to come. She finally arrives and remarks how heavy her bag is and how there should be coolies on local train platforms. Yeah right. And you're the Queen of England. We get on to the pedestrian bridge only to realise that it has been flooded with mucky water. By now I was certain that Leptospirosis would never let go of this glorious opportunity. We finally got hold of a cab and asked him to take us to the court. A 10 minute journey later, we stop in front of this dilapidated building which had a HUGE 'No smoking' sign. On first look, it seemed like a rehab. It wasn't. We were greeted by a weird looking guy wearing a deep red but very evidently fake Abercrombie and Fitch shirt. I thought he was a pickpocket. I'm not kidding. So he guided us inside the court building. A flight of stairs leading to the court room on the second floor. The steps were made of wood and they would SHAKE! I was convinced that I was sure to make a hospital visit by the end of the day. Then, on finally reaching the 2nd floor, I realised the courtroom was no better. If only creams like Olay and Ponds could reverse the ageing signs of the courtroom. I could feel my lungs getting clogged with tonnes of dust while I patiently sat and observed the fans creaking irritably as they moved and the hundred LJ Soft calenders that adorned the walls which looked like pancake wearing off a hundred year old woman's face. Then, all of a sudden everyone rose and bowed in respect to a man who had red Henna dyed hair and seemed that he had just had a hundred pieces of betel nut. You guessed it right, he was indeed the Honourable Judge. After a series of monotonous statements made in Marathi which is like Greek to me by several lawyers, it was finally the turn of the Junior advocate to present her case. Thankfully, she spoke in English. All that she said was " We wish to present "hairs" on the next date of the proceeding". I was fascinated and started wondering if it involved some kind of DNA evidence-awesome stuff! But that was not it. She meant "heirs". Sigh. Next we were instructed to come to the High Court and eventually go to the sessions court.

My poor, poor feet.

Once we reached the High Court, this Junior again asked me whether I wanted to go to the loo and yet again I replied in negative. By now, she was extremely enamoured by my bladder's capacity. She looked at me so stunned that I feared her eyeballs may just pop out there.

I was later told to go to the Sewree court the following day. A place I had never heard of. So, I messaged and asked my friend the directions to reach that not so nice sounding place. My boss caught me messaging. Tells me that I should focus more on the work and less on the cell phone. Yeah right! All this coming from a dude who cribs a million times when someone calls him and on answering the phone would say "aur batao brother kaise call kiya".

*End of day three*

Next day, after about 10 Google searches I figured out a way to reach Sewree. By the time I reached Sewree station, my poor feet had been stamped over by atleast a dozen other ruthless feet. As soon as I step on the platform, I hear the familiar Psych theme song. Answer the call. It's my boss. He tells me that there's no point in going to Sewree because you don't have all the information and it'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Yes dude, didn't you realise that an hour back! "So now, Tanvi please go to the Bombay Small Causes Court near VT and look up for this case and then at 3 you need to go to this associate law firm and pick up a case brief". By now I had had enough. I had made up my mind that today would be the last day of my slavery. 10 photocopies, 5 trips up and down the stairs of the High Court and a few gyaan sessions later, I told him that I quit. Man! You should've seen his face! He just lost a servant who was working for free.

Excerpts from the gyaan session:

• Tanvi, I suggest after you complete your law you should go abroad to do your masters. I've been to London. You can see yourself how much difference it makes.
• I, alongwith 3-4 other lawyers in this bar association room have the most flourishing practice. Have you ever seen me read a newspaper? No. This is the sign of a really busy lawyer. The moment you see a lawyer reading a newspaper, you know he's out of work.
• You have a good handwriting but I'm the handwriting champion.
• What does your name mean? It doesn't have a meaning right? Sir, it does. Oh! All this while I thought it was a mere fashionable name.

Here's a quote from Grey's Anatomy that seemed so apt:

"You're interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain."

Only this was a legal food chain. Same situation.