AU Hustle
It is so hard to not swear. So bloody hard.
I had only one arrear to take care of, this last semester. And that was over on the 27th of April. After that, I was home for exactly a month, with chicken pox. Manal vaari amman, to be more specific.
It was on the 29th of May that I finally stepped out of the house. June 9 was my visa interview. The only things I could do (no no... I could get done) were my course completion certificate and department attested marksheets. And even for that I had to run between the department and the CoE office.
Interview was over, I was put on hold. I came to college almost everyday to beg for my results. And beg, I did.
Grant me my bail, I beseech you!
But no. It will take a week. These five words I heard for six weeks. In different voices, in different intonations, in different moods, in different languages. And all of those weeks I went to remind them that I was waiting for my PC.
Meanwhile, on the 20th, a special bunch of PCs came for those students who needed it for admissions and visas. The list had my name, though my interview was over, and though my result was not out yet.
(Enter sarcasm... My only unbeatable alternative!)
It cannot be, I tell myself. The university will check the results of the students and issue the certificates - these are equivalent to a degree! Silly girl, did you really think they will type out the names as on the list and blindly hand it over? Yet out of sheer desperation, I rush from home to the department. It is half an hour to closing time. I puff and pant and reach the air-conditioned reception of the HOD's office. The dreary eyed maid lifts her ear to my voice "Ma'am could you please check for my PC..."
She wriggles out of her tiresome throne and fishes into an envelope to draw out the treasure. Pink diamonds? Nay, the provisional certificates. She turns leaf over leaf; the hassles of the day have taken their toll on her. She is tired, the poor damsel. She is unable to turn more. She skims through the last few. "It is not here", she says.
Of course, how can it be? The results are not out.
I leave, reasoning to myself, while the distressed daisy stretches her arms with a squirm that I could only see on a woman enacting her pregnancy.
I run to the CoE everyday after that, writing letters, meeting everyone in his office, requesting over and over (and over and over) again to know my results. Frustrated, and out of sheer anxiety that my father should not involve himself in this, I walk into the dean's office, make a polite request. With the touch of a button, I am taken to stand five metres from the paper containing my result. "You have made it", says the maiden there.
Leaping with joy, I rush to see my class advisor so he will sign the PC application to be submitted to the HOD.
Monday. July 10th. The PC application has been handed over to the CoE's office.
Tuesday. July 11th. I go to the department office to ask for Asif's PC and gradesheets. Surely, at least his must have come by now. A motherly lady has the treasure envelope now. Wait, something else lies there. A cover sheet. Names. Roll numbers. Classification. She checks for Asif. Not in the first page. Yes, in the second page. But wait, something familiar. My name! Right there. Towards the end. Voice quivering, fingers trembling, "Could you please..." "Yes, here is yours..."
I hold it in hand as if it were the extension of my intellect. (In a way... it certifies my intellect in ways only mugpots know best) The map to the world's goldmines. I read it, line by line. I read it with joy, until I saw the date.
20/06/2006
Like I said, it is so hard not to swear. Having kept it under check for well over a year now, I see no reason to break it. At the same time, I will melt if I didn't. So let me leave this outburst to your imagination.
A good man, the HOD. But his assistant... Not once have I seen her do her work right. Forever that half asleep look, that half asleep voice, always in pain to do this, always tired to do that. If only she had gone through the PCs the way she should have. She wouldn't let me take them and search. Then why the ...on earth... did she put a scene to search by herself. "Oh! My arms hurt so much!" Ye, freak. It will hurt much more when we're both in hell and I'm the one holding you down with the pitchfork in a cauldron of boiling oil. May she get stabbed a million times by poisoned daggers. May she be bombarded with cannonballs at close range. May she lose her way in a desert on an alien planet and her flesh be picked on by scavenging creatures while she has still not breathed her last. May she die the slowest most painful death ever possible by the will of God.
So, I got my PC after all. Why am I still mad? Coz chaos theory worked. The flap of a butterfly's wings on one coast causing a hurricane on the other coast. Let me tell you how. Had I gotten the PC that very day, I would have submitted the passport with it in VFS for my visa. I would have it back in 3 days with the visa stamp. I would have left to visit my grandparents, stayed 2 weeks with them, returned, gone shopping, had all formalities completed well before time, and rested in peace. But thanks to my acceptance of her lethargy, I submitted the passport 3 days ago and it is yet to be processed. One anxious grad admit even mentioned that his passport, submitted by same process for the same reason just before mine, would take 15 days to come. What if this were a bottleneck at the consulate? The days of running to and fro, when I could have as well spent more of the last days in the company of real friends, the nights my father's blood pressure kept rising, the calls from grandparents, frustration in their voices and mine that the 2 week stay was now reduced to a 2 day stay, sleepless nights spent fearing the worst, travel formalities constantly postponed 'until visa comes'... And now everything needs to be done in hardly a month. No peace of mind. No nothing. But it still makes no difference to a lazy hag complaining of how her arm aches from flipping pages.
That my PC had come after classification on the 20th itself could mean one of these two things. That my gut was right and logic was wrong - they did process it parallely and hand over the PCs by classifying with whatever CGPA was available in their records, not checking anything else. Are they that careless? Or my gut was wrong and logic was right - I got the PC because my results had been entered in the system, although not released officially. The PC is dated 20th June, the results came 13th July. Can someone tell me why?
Burn, vile gargoyles of this university, burn... BURN !!!
I had only one arrear to take care of, this last semester. And that was over on the 27th of April. After that, I was home for exactly a month, with chicken pox. Manal vaari amman, to be more specific.
It was on the 29th of May that I finally stepped out of the house. June 9 was my visa interview. The only things I could do (no no... I could get done) were my course completion certificate and department attested marksheets. And even for that I had to run between the department and the CoE office.
Interview was over, I was put on hold. I came to college almost everyday to beg for my results. And beg, I did.
Grant me my bail, I beseech you!
But no. It will take a week. These five words I heard for six weeks. In different voices, in different intonations, in different moods, in different languages. And all of those weeks I went to remind them that I was waiting for my PC.
Meanwhile, on the 20th, a special bunch of PCs came for those students who needed it for admissions and visas. The list had my name, though my interview was over, and though my result was not out yet.
(Enter sarcasm... My only unbeatable alternative!)
It cannot be, I tell myself. The university will check the results of the students and issue the certificates - these are equivalent to a degree! Silly girl, did you really think they will type out the names as on the list and blindly hand it over? Yet out of sheer desperation, I rush from home to the department. It is half an hour to closing time. I puff and pant and reach the air-conditioned reception of the HOD's office. The dreary eyed maid lifts her ear to my voice "Ma'am could you please check for my PC..."
She wriggles out of her tiresome throne and fishes into an envelope to draw out the treasure. Pink diamonds? Nay, the provisional certificates. She turns leaf over leaf; the hassles of the day have taken their toll on her. She is tired, the poor damsel. She is unable to turn more. She skims through the last few. "It is not here", she says.
Of course, how can it be? The results are not out.
I leave, reasoning to myself, while the distressed daisy stretches her arms with a squirm that I could only see on a woman enacting her pregnancy.
I run to the CoE everyday after that, writing letters, meeting everyone in his office, requesting over and over (and over and over) again to know my results. Frustrated, and out of sheer anxiety that my father should not involve himself in this, I walk into the dean's office, make a polite request. With the touch of a button, I am taken to stand five metres from the paper containing my result. "You have made it", says the maiden there.
Leaping with joy, I rush to see my class advisor so he will sign the PC application to be submitted to the HOD.
Monday. July 10th. The PC application has been handed over to the CoE's office.
Tuesday. July 11th. I go to the department office to ask for Asif's PC and gradesheets. Surely, at least his must have come by now. A motherly lady has the treasure envelope now. Wait, something else lies there. A cover sheet. Names. Roll numbers. Classification. She checks for Asif. Not in the first page. Yes, in the second page. But wait, something familiar. My name! Right there. Towards the end. Voice quivering, fingers trembling, "Could you please..." "Yes, here is yours..."
I hold it in hand as if it were the extension of my intellect. (In a way... it certifies my intellect in ways only mugpots know best) The map to the world's goldmines. I read it, line by line. I read it with joy, until I saw the date.
20/06/2006
Like I said, it is so hard not to swear. Having kept it under check for well over a year now, I see no reason to break it. At the same time, I will melt if I didn't. So let me leave this outburst to your imagination.
A good man, the HOD. But his assistant... Not once have I seen her do her work right. Forever that half asleep look, that half asleep voice, always in pain to do this, always tired to do that. If only she had gone through the PCs the way she should have. She wouldn't let me take them and search. Then why the ...on earth... did she put a scene to search by herself. "Oh! My arms hurt so much!" Ye, freak. It will hurt much more when we're both in hell and I'm the one holding you down with the pitchfork in a cauldron of boiling oil. May she get stabbed a million times by poisoned daggers. May she be bombarded with cannonballs at close range. May she lose her way in a desert on an alien planet and her flesh be picked on by scavenging creatures while she has still not breathed her last. May she die the slowest most painful death ever possible by the will of God.
So, I got my PC after all. Why am I still mad? Coz chaos theory worked. The flap of a butterfly's wings on one coast causing a hurricane on the other coast. Let me tell you how. Had I gotten the PC that very day, I would have submitted the passport with it in VFS for my visa. I would have it back in 3 days with the visa stamp. I would have left to visit my grandparents, stayed 2 weeks with them, returned, gone shopping, had all formalities completed well before time, and rested in peace. But thanks to my acceptance of her lethargy, I submitted the passport 3 days ago and it is yet to be processed. One anxious grad admit even mentioned that his passport, submitted by same process for the same reason just before mine, would take 15 days to come. What if this were a bottleneck at the consulate? The days of running to and fro, when I could have as well spent more of the last days in the company of real friends, the nights my father's blood pressure kept rising, the calls from grandparents, frustration in their voices and mine that the 2 week stay was now reduced to a 2 day stay, sleepless nights spent fearing the worst, travel formalities constantly postponed 'until visa comes'... And now everything needs to be done in hardly a month. No peace of mind. No nothing. But it still makes no difference to a lazy hag complaining of how her arm aches from flipping pages.
That my PC had come after classification on the 20th itself could mean one of these two things. That my gut was right and logic was wrong - they did process it parallely and hand over the PCs by classifying with whatever CGPA was available in their records, not checking anything else. Are they that careless? Or my gut was wrong and logic was right - I got the PC because my results had been entered in the system, although not released officially. The PC is dated 20th June, the results came 13th July. Can someone tell me why?
Burn, vile gargoyles of this university, burn... BURN !!!
posted by Livewire at
2:55 AM
1 Comments:
hey ash i was on d floor laughin..i cud imagine u throwin tat woman into the blazes and laughing madly! ...nice way to vent it all out woman! keep goin!!:)
By
Shivani, at 10:38 AM
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