The System is Collapsing

Hello there!

Powercuts in the ghettos of Delhi in a sweltering summer midnight rekindles the medieval memory when the monarch got nerds sewn up in animal hide and carried on a mule to Baghdad because they said earth was round.

And so here I am, sitting on my chair in my balcony, which stretches a few centimeters longer than the UPSC prelims answersheet, drenched in sweat and furious at this wisdom tooth which has been trying to emerge for about a year now. The darkness around me remains impenetrable. The strait-like strip of sky above stays stripped of stars. 

I can hear voices though. Students discussing nation’s problems. Couples discussing their own problems. Kids cackling at lame jokes. Babies blabbering incomprehensible phrases, and their parents responding with wonder and encouragement. The clinging of utensils. The whooshing of flush. The cacophony at a distance. And even farther, the blaring honks of vehicles zooming on Delhi roads. At this point, someone plays loud music and all other sounds vanish, and I feel even more pissed. Because one, it’s a song about some guy promising some car to some lady, clearly mocking my multidimensional poverty; and two, when it’s pitch dark you need heterogeneous sounds just to remain sane. That seems like an assault on my fundamental rights, and I feel like invoking 32. 

But I don’t want to pick a fight because I can’t see, and verbal cursing is something I am trying to avoid these days. Because once it gets on the tongue, it develops an organic relationship with you. You begin to think in terms of curses. 

E.g., B#*&$ the system is collapsing. 

For UPSC, you have to think differently.

E.g., There are persistent and systemic issues, but with the synergizing efforts of government, organizations and people, swift and substantial transformation can be achieved. 

Okay, a half naked man just appeared on the opposite balcony with a torch, and we briefly looked at each other, our unclothed bodies emitting cavemen vibes. He had a slight paunch, but I resisted myself from recommending him a healthy diet. Once I had tried giving suggestions to a lady in JNU, to which she said she was body positive and that BMI indicators were Eurocentric. 

Anyways, it has been a frustrating day because I slept for hardly 6 hours, spent the entire day struggling to gather myself up, couldn’t finish the essay because my brain stopped working, Crimson called and demanded I met her, the cook didn’t come in the evening, Crimson made me wait for over 30 minutes and then harangued me with the petty problems of her life. A junior called me up and asked for my prelims result. After all this, I ate a loaded burger, breaking my vow to stick to healthy options only. And now there is power cut! Could it be any worse? 

Yes. My flatmate said he’d come next week. So that makes it one full month of me talking to myself, and the cook and Baba. Conversations with the cook involves she asking what to cook and me saying whatever’s in the basket, and usually there’s poverty in the basket. 

Conversations with Baba….actually we have stopped talking. He sees my face and takes out a pouch of toned milk from the fridge. I scan the QR code and pay 25 rupees. Occasionally, when it’s too hot, he says B#&$@, it’s too hot, and I agree with him. Baba always smokes beedi these days, and I can’t ask him to not do it, so I don’t linger about much in his shop. 

I have plenty of time and yet I can’t study efficiently. I sit on the chair while my mind sneaks out of the window and flies like a bee. By the time it gets back, I have to get up to drink water, go to the toilet, take a walk because my neck hurts. Everyday, I plan out the next day. The plan begins with me waking up at 6 am. Then some Black Swan event happens, and it’s 8 am when I open my eyes the next day. Sometimes it’s too hot and there is power outage. Sometimes it rains and the drops fall on the broken down AC with the thud of a hammer. Sometimes I just can’t sleep. 

Everyday at 8:30 am, I also go for grocery shopping because there’s no fridge to store vegetables. And I need milk for protein. Everyday, I walk past those fast food joints and the confectionery, and oh the aroma!… it takes an effort to control my greedy self. 

At this point, I am tied to 60 rupees a day budget, monthly expenses excluded. It’s stressful. 

When I am on the table, I oscillate between subjects and themes. While reading history, I want to read geography all of a sudden and when it’s geography time, maps make my eyes bleed. I try writing essay, and I feel I am not prepared, and when I try to prepare for essay, I wonder what’s there to prepare in an essay. I can’t increase my writing speed because I can’t think fast, I can’t think fast because I can’t mug up, I can’t mug up because it’s painful to read the entire syllabus again, it’s painful because I have difficulty in retaining things, I have such difficulty because I can’t sleep on time, I can’t sleep on time because of such midnight power outages. B#*&$, the system is collapsing. 

During the day, I took some pain to prepare a chart, another addition to a long dynasty of charts on my table, about things I must do this time. With every aspect of preparation covered in excruciating detail, the only thing now left is to act. 

I need to tame myself. Study using stopwatches. Force my hands to write. Fix my arse to the chair. Memorize points. Draw diagrams. Do it like a ritual. Make it into a habit. Turn it into a necessity. I need to embrace the monotony of weekdays. I need to cuddle with editorials and caress my notes. Give myself daily targets. Promise myself a reward. Be unperturbed by outages. Be focused on the goal. Think of the future. The suit, the salary and the system. The far end where lies the elysium.