Sizzling Success: Knocking Patriarchy Off the Platter -1

HERE, IT BEGINS.....

Blog 1 – 22.04.2024

Shoddy, as always. Light-headed and heavy-hearted, I headed towards the concrete abyss, waiting to depart from Gate 2. I was in my casuals, returning from classes, sweaty as hell. My trusted compatriot, Siri, was no less tired. It was evening, and the sun was nowhere to be seen – maybe it was just as exhausted as we were.

God, I started to hate all sorts of field-work. My head quipped; I wish I were in my cosy cocoon back at my house. The afternoon heatwaves were relentless, and its immediate aftermath was no less forgiving. What was worse than the heatwaves was this: the shrill honking noises from the already dreary, dreadful and ancient Chennai buses felt like a sword passed right through my two eardrums.

I wondered about those lifeless concrete buildings we walked past – I admired their resilience intensely against day-to-day human (mis)use. The shiny, spotless glasses were so irresistible that I wanted to enter right inside those buildings and have a bird’s eye view of the civilisation of IIT-Madras (partly consisting of monkeys, or should I say, the only civilisation run by monkeys entirely?).

The moment of glory arrived as Siri and I entered the Holy Grail – Chain 1’s magnificent building towering above our heads. We made it! I was frantically shrieking (in my head) because this triumphant achievement, in such sweltering heat, was no less heroic (and historic) than climbing Mount Everest! We darted through the security premises (I swear we looked like laid-off, desperate workers, maybe raising an eyebrow or two) with bags more extensive than our entire bookshelves back in our respective hostels. The whole security and detection system reminded me of the movie My Name is Khan (2010). So many people were scuttling around, with so many enormous cars being parked wayside; it felt as if the Governor himself would arrive in a few moments.

A blast of cold air struck us directly as we entered the premises. Heaven on Earth, I wondered. In Chennai, maybe? Siri and I stood there for two straight seconds until a muscular-looking man appeared to address our concerns. Park*… I read on his name pin. Park*… Geun-Hye? Ahh, I already have enough of Global Politics (one of our courses here at IIT-M). My mind snapped as he tried to address our concerns. We noticed two immediate aspects – his English accent induced an inferior complex in me because it was so devoid of an Indian accent. Alongside this, he never stuttered! That charming confidence, oh, I so wish I had it in me.

Anyway, moving towards the central theme.

He wore formals, of course; they were wrinkle-free, just like how corporates ideally function without hiccups (or so it is assumed). My mind ran towards Max Weber’s definitions of bureaucracy as I battled goosebumps to ask questions.

Eventually, Siri, giving up on my restlessness, narrated our project in a gist and asked: May we know how to get permission for the same?

Park’s look was exceptionally blank. Here we go again, I wondered. Thankfully, my doubts were put to rest permanently; he directed us towards the bottom of the building, asking us to request the HR (Human Resources) team for the same. We could not register this for a while; Park’s compatriots – even the receptionist, who looked slightly annoyed – guided us towards the door.

Or rather, we were shown the door, I believed. Was this mission doomed to fail? There may be no HR department below, after all.

Hold your bets because we found a way out!

We headed towards the bottom of the building as we spiralled downwards, around its edges. All fine concrete and breezy. And it was all so empty. Not even an ant was visible.

The world below was a different one altogether. Trays, lots of them. A yellow-white van with loaves of bread was being unloaded.

Premium-ish smell, I contemplated. So, this is how all 5-star hotels feel like, eh?

Uniformed workers sat on the floor, chatting as we planned our next steps. It all felt like an underground restaurant cooking area, with vast protective gear being deployed. We tried to make our way into the shadowy ‘staff’ alley, but we were prevented by an almost-senior citizen lady guarding the entrance with ever-more detection systems. She demanded to see our ID cards. What ID cards? IIT-M ones? We, like a clockwork operation, repeated the entire ordeal. Then she asked: were you called for interviews? I mentioned in a mini-defiant tone that we were the ones going to interview.

The displeasure on her face was priceless. I felt guilty for jeopardising the project and victorious simultaneously, for I exercised my agency (which I rarely do, mind you).

We saw a figure headed towards us—a person with blazers. Yet more formal, I shrugged.

Rajiv*, who was headed towards us, greeted us with a grand smile, and I seized the opportunity to explain our apprehensions. With a kind-looking smile, he explained all the (may I please say rigid?) procedures for getting the approval and gave out his phone number to pursue the same. Siri and I were dismal. This entire process crashed hard like a failed visa interview (ignore the pun). I again looked at the name pin on his chest and found a peculiar mention: Passion – piano. What did it have to do with the job, I wonder?

We put on our masks of mixed nervousness and half-baked smiles as we dragged our feet and headed towards Gate 2. The only thing bearable was that the trembling heat had dissipated at this point.

Failed mission. Darn. We vowed to return tomorrow, with no exceptions whatsoever.

“I believe in the resistance as I believe there can be no light without shadow; or rather, no shadow unless there is also light.” - Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale.

*All the names used in our blogs are pseudonyms of the people we have interacted with. This has been done to protect the identity of all the folks mentioned here.