Ah, Kalinga editors. Poor things, really. They prowl around with harried looks on their faces, always on the lookout for new, extremely specific grievances that they can spin into 750-word articles laden with witty one-liners and whatever the Internet’s current favourite memes are. Lift not working, 45-minute wait at THC, sprinkler torture—like modern alchemists, they turn all that discontent into content.
The problem, of course, arises when, at a certain point, one experiences a plateau of sorts. A dry spell, where it seems as though everything under the sun worth writing about has been written about already (after all, one can only make the same egg roll joke so many times). And despite the deluge of cold water that assaults us every night near the RHs, this is one of those dry spells.
Kalinga editors have been coping with this trying time in a multitude of ways. The number of collaborations have increased exponentially; whether two heads are actually better than one remains to be seen, but most people evidently seem to believe they are. Many have resorted to tried-and-true topics—academics, relationships, the festive season. But one intrepid soul decided to take matters into my own—I mean, their own hands, boldly go where no one’s gone before, and—you might have to hold your breath for this one—reuse an old piece.
Recycling, you might say. How depressingly banal.
Oh, but wait. Not just any old piece. It’s an old piece that’s not the editor’s own.
So lack of originality and plagiarism. You are yawning now. What’s new? Oh, right, NOTHING.
Hey, there’s no such thing as a truly original idea, okay? We are all reflections of those who came before us, everything we’ve ever seen and read and imbibed. And you don’t understand how stressful it is to be thinking about producing Content all the time, which is such an insidious commodification of the creative arts in the first place when you think about it. Which I don’t have time to do, because I have three final papers due next week and have started on exactly none of them. It’s hard, okay?
…are you crying? I’M NOT. Anyway, it’s not plagiarism, because I won’t be passing off the piece as mine. It’ll be framed as a collaboration. A piece started by one writer, then finished by another. A symphony transcending generations. Or something like that. I did have to make some edits, but—anyway, I won’t spoil it any more. You’ll see what I mean. Just read on!
Wait, so this whole thing was just a weird gimmick to introduce your article?
Hey, man. It’s Socratic dialogue or whatever. Just let me do my thing.
A Day in the Life of an Ashokan
By xxxx xxxxxx [Name redacted to maintain the author’s privacy]
30 September, 20XX [Editor’s note: The original draft, retrieved with great difficulty by the editor from one of the AC04 meeting rooms, seems to be splattered copiously with lemon ginger honey tea, and the exact year of writing has therefore been rendered illegible. Further examination of the contents will however place it at least 2-3 years before the present.]
1. Wake up in the comfort [E/N: Dubious terminology, but sure.] of my beautiful dorm room, S̶H̶ RH 3 403. [E/N: How old is this thing?]
2. Get started on my morning routine: skincare, stretches, and a brief perusal of the news, including my daily skim of The Edict, Ashoka’s most brilliant and hardworking c̶l̶u̶b̶???. [E/N: How do I say “student-run newspaper that is technically not officially a club anymore” without sounding utterly ridiculous and also mildly dystopian.]
3. Grab breakfast from the mess at 9:45AM for the affordable price of just Rs. 5̶0̶ 76? [E/N: This is oddly prescient. Why did they just say that. Is it normal to bring up mess prices unprovoked?]
4. Return to the mess after Mind and Behaviour to grab my mid-morning cup of tea and 15-rupee samosa at C̶h̶a̶i̶ S̶h̶a̶i̶ Loco Moko. [E/N: A curse upon the bloodline of whoever catalysed the chain of events that led to me unironically typing the words ‘Loco Moko’.]
5. Microeconomics I with Sabyasachi Das (3:00PM – 4:30PM) [E/N: Yaar.]
6. Catch up with my friends outside Nescafe over Masala Maggi and cold coffee. [E/N: Kit Ka— fuck it. I’m not doing it. I’m not doing it! Help me make #VivaLaNescafe viral on Twitter.] [E/N: Sorry, I mean X. Damn it all.]
7. Spend the evening on the mess lawns having stimulating conversations with my peers, and revelling in the atmosphere of free academic expression and vibrant student culture. [E/N: This is starting to get a little spooky. ARE YOU A TIME TRAVELLER? IS THIS FORESHADOWING? IS THIS A WARNING?]
8. Return to my dorm room for the night and spend a few minutes scrolling through my phone, only to realise that due to my two hours of socialising, I have 109 unread emails in my inbox. Another lovely day! [E/N: Thank fuck at least one thing hasn’t changed. I’m going to bed.]
this is brilliantly self-aware and hilarious. such a fun read !