KGS: Hello World! I am Grammarian Scum

nun lucerna pedibus meis verbum tuum et lumen semitis meis

Thy word is a lantern unto my feet and a light unto my paths.

-Jerome’s Latin Vulgate (405 AD)

Ever so often, in both my professional and personal life I am  pointedly reminded of one thing. Not that I am Desi, Shia Muslim, Wear Glasses or that I have a complete lack of rhythm, but that I am a Grammarian.; hence Elitist Ass Kicking Scum. Not that I particularly mind, being the recipient of the best educational institution in the country has its advantages. Chiefly that the uniform doesn't make one look like an idiot. White shirt with Grey Tussar trousers....and no emblem. The fact that its a kick ass school helps too.

Grammarians

Karachi Grammar School has, as most educational institutions that one is forced to attend for a decade or so, has shaped my upbringing, my opportunities and even my friends. It's without competition, the best School in the country (sorry young pretenders, look on the bright side, second place is wide open). It's because of this privileged experience and subsequent exposure that I have often been lectured that a  being a Grammarian, is a responsibility, a privilege and as cliched as it sounds, a burden. Much is given, much more is expected.

I thrive in it, I love it and damn it, I'm proud of it. Yes, you read right. I, a decent man in my mid-twenties am still damn proud of where I went to High School. I'd staple the fact onto my head if it weren't for the fact that I'm so Grammarian that the minute I start talking, people assume it. On the rare occasions that I somewhat reluctantly mention (it's bad manners to brag) that I went to Karachi Grammar School, the audience eyes widen and an envious glint tends to exhibit itself in a rather disconcerting way. A quick self check tends to validate that my clothes are still on and I'm not dancing in a burlesque club (Thank God, I was not kidding about the sense of rhythm). It rather creepy when someone looks at you with that crazed 'are you an Alien' look. I get better treatment from the good folks at Homeland Security (USA). Atleast they are satisfied after the initial pat down.

Now since I'm a Grammarian, hence a minority, even though not quite an endangered species, I still contend that one ought to defend those rights and remove those popular misconceptions about my 'species'. Apparently Grammarians are a species, I'm guessing Elvin.

I'm sure most Grammarian vs. Other School fights are sparked to life by an inherent curiosity if Grammarians bleed like the rest of Pakistan. We do. The blood is a Royal Purple though. Damn, we're so misunderstood.

Popular conceptions about Grammarians:

1. We're Shallow Snobs; We think we're better than everyone else. Now, every school has it's crowd of Shallow Snobs, Grammar is no different, at least ours can make some modicum of sense. It's called, prestige with a healthy side order of  'I don't give a shit.' Super Size please?

Benazir Bhutto: Grammarian Alumni

On a serious note, when everyone treats you like you're the direct progeny of Albert Einstein, you're bound to develop some airs. After a point, you tend to be drawn to people who go through that same experience. It's tough, particularly when you're not even old enough to drive (legally, or reach the gas pedal for that matter). Its not snobbery, it's just human, we are drawn to others with a similarity of habits. Saddam Hussein and Attila the Hun would have also gotten along famously....if they both were smart enough to get into Grammar School.   

2. Weak Food Processing Durability: We get sick from an old fashioned street bun kebab. Weak stomachs and all that, the addiction to mineral water aside, yes we do tend to consume hygienic food, it's certainly a massive cause for shame. We'll just wallow in misery as our life expectancy outlast the rest of the population. Though in some circles one could contend that we're simply averaging the life expectancy up. True Patriots! Take that World Health Statistics!

3. We can't speak Urdu: Largely True, mine sucks, and as much it must pain me to admit, my Urdu speaking scale generally reflect the average Grammarian level. I know for a fact that my version of Urdu adds countless thousands of rupees to my net spending. Thankfully, by being a Grammarian, I tend to earn countless thousands of rupees more.....my personal conclusion being .....So freaking what? Pump up the Economy me and my peeps do. On a side note, our Urdu isn't as bad as most people think, if you don't believe me, check out the number of A's we score in our O'Levels. It's totally Mash'allah.

4. We have accents: I never quite understood this one. Just because we (by in large) don't speak with a desi jhutt (slang) to all of our pronunciations, speaks volumes of our ability to enunciate. Sue me, we prefer pronouncing words correctly. As God, the Queen of England and my 8th Grade English Language Teacher Mrs. Tahir (who despite describing most of my behavior in words like Audacity and Temerity actually quite liked me) intended. Personally I rather blame all of the other language teachers in Pakistan, they obviously didn't grow up with the luxury of watching copious amounts of Mind Your Language, Yes Minister and Hugh Grant.

5. We all take Tuition Classes: Apparently being academic superstars isn't quite as impressive if you are getting extra help outside school. However, I'd like to point out that so does everyone else, we're quite the academic trendsetters. Next up, Grammarians will become fantastic alcoholics....oops, we've already got that reputation signed sealed and delivered. I wonder if parents blame Grammarians for extensively liberalizing their Wannabe Grammarian kids.....

We're also that Elitist Save the World Cretins Too!

Working harder and putting that extra academic effort also tends to explains why KGS students do better than most other schools. It's not rocket science. We have 6 hours of regular school in a day and on average another 4 hours of tuition....plus homework. So, it's not that we're just overtly smarter (which we would humbly admit that we are), we've also developed this mildly useful thing called work ethic. 

6. We're all super smart: It is no secret that Karachi Grammar School is the most  competitive school to gain admission into in Pakistan. On admission form collection days, parents tend to outnumber the entire student body. We call it, we only want the best of the best syndrome. Choosy lot we are. That is unless you have some political birth right, odds are that you need substantial levels of brain power to be accepted. Admittedly, we tend to discriminate on ability, it's called a meritocracy. After all, you can't fix stupid. Inequality is soooooo unfair.

How many Grammarian girls can you fit into a car?....A World Record Number Infact

7. Grammarians are Westernized: We are just as proud of being Pakistani as anyone else, and believe or not we have alot more to lose if Pakistan doesn't emerge from it's perpetual crisis state than most other people.  A fair proportion of Grammarians do leave Pakistan to pursue a future elsewhere, but most do make their homes here in Pakistan. True some of us may pick up western habits like fancy new designer clothes or a penchant for civilized behavior, but hey, a few chai's at Cafe Clifton, Dinners at BBQ tonight and the odd trip to Sunday Bazaar solves that. I personally recommend a healthy addiction to Slice Mango Juice, Apple Sidra and Pakola Lime.

8. We're All Rich: Contrary to the lines of cars one sees outside the Grammar campuses in Saddar and Boat Basin, the student body of KGS is actually fairly diverse along both socio economic and religious lines. In terms of fees the school is actually the cheapest amongst it's peers (haha, that's assuming we even had peers, which we don't). On top of the lower fees, there are also numerous scholarships for students that are based solely on merit. We take the brilliant and make them even better. That's our modus operandi, if the perception exists that all Grammarians are rich, it's because the student body that emerges excels in every field it meanders into....and that usually result in a pretty substantive payoff. That's a testament to the dogged Grammarian spirit and the reputation of the educational institution. 

9. We have the best looking girls: Yes. Guilty as charged. It's the reason that every male child works so damn hard to get into KGS. It's all about the Chicitas. Pity the ladies tend to be of the smart variety. Tip: Learn some sappy sonnets.  

10. We have an unfair advantage in Life. Yep, we do. That's what we get for being Awesome.

Kofi Annan: Grammarian Alumni

Contrary to popular opinion, no one is born a Grammarian, they earn it, through perseverance, excellence, and a dash of style. All satire aside, you make your own place in the world, being a Grammarian and learning the lessons the institution has to offer just gives you a stronger starting point. The rest is up to your  personal drive, ambition and character. We're just lucky that we tend to attract those who have it in abundance.

Let the Grammarian Hating Begin.

For more information on Karachi Grammar School: 

http://www.kgs.edu.pk/Default.aspx

http://www.ogs.com.pk/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karachi_Grammar_School

Lessons from College: Cautionary Tales

I always prided myself on the various esoteric connections I made at school, and the unique individuals who in one way or another shaped my life; some were no better than cautionary tales, others were truly inspirational. 

However, for this post I'd like to recap the real deviants. For obvious reasons I have decided to protect their identities, also some details have been changed, largely due to embellishments. 

These 'gospels' provide an interesting framework of how the lessons I gleaned were largely born out of randomness (and at other people expense). 

1. Story of Small P: Permission and Forgiveness

Small P was one of those guys who everyone liked even though he was a small, scrawny kind of guy with a razor sharp wit and was a bit of a dick. 

However, he loved to have fun and had a strict intoxication and enjoyment policy.....mainly 'whatever, whenever'.  

A particular sports team was travelling to a conference game and arriving late into the night at their accommodations. Sans a coach, the Team Captains put the team to bed having autocratically decided it would be best to simply crash and get what little rest you could before the early morning festivities. 

This was for obvious reasons now a popular idea amongst the party loving players. But, the Captain had spoken and his word was final. However, a minority, led by Small P thought that this was an awful idea and took it upon himself to lead a small group of rebels out to the local bar scene. 

After 4 hours of hedonistic, drunken and hilariously irresponsible behavior (the local bar maid might have been led to believe that all the players were Lithuanian) the entire group (miraculously) safely returned to the accommodations and unfortunately.....to an irate Captain who had been calling every ones cell phones for the past 3 hours. 

It was just plain bad luck that everyone on that trip had left their cell phones behind. After a severe tongue lashing, the group feeling sorry for themselves, vented their frustration at Small P for his galvanizing them earlier. 

Small P (still startlingly drunk of his hiney) asked one question, 'Did you guys have a good time?", everyone assented that indeed, they had. He then shrugged his shoulders in the way of a modern day Aristotle,  "Some times its better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission." 

2. Story of Roger: Genius of Circumstance 

Hamilton has extremely cold weather, the winters were almost unbearable. For anyone who likes a good smoke (weed, tobacco or otherwise), the winter months are perhaps the most despicable aspect of life at Hamilton. Personally I'm convinced that Hamilton intrinsically forces people to quit smoking via the weather. 

Any how, my friend Roger and his room mate 'Roomie' lived in substance free housing, but they were avid smokers (of all things that could be smoked). Now in substance free one isn't allowed to possess any alcohol, drugs, smoke indoors, or make loud music after certain hours. 

Unfortunately for the more rule inclined residents, one in particular Crazy Suzy, Roger had an electric guitar which he played with wild abandon at a mind numbing volume.  Now Crazy Suzy was one of the super wound up substance free Priestesses, she was obsessive about maintaining the purity of her substance free domain. 

She was therefore not a natural fan of Roger and Roomie, and registered formal complaints against them on a weekly basis (conservatively est.). Though in her defense both Roger and Roomie seemed to be aiming at shattering the record for most rules broken in a single year. 

By winter, Roger was on his (5th) last chance and one cold bone crunching night both he and Roomie were prepping for finals, drinking a beer (illegal) whilst working and contemplating a smoke. Roger decided that the weather was prohibitive and Roomie agreed and turned to continue working. 5 minutes later Roomie felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. 

Roger had wrapped up the smoke detector (illegal), stuffed a towel underneath the door and was in the process of lighting up their favourite bong (illegal) . Bemused by Rogers 'genius' they smoked and drank whilst studying for the rest of the night. The next day they both went to class (hungover) and Roomie upon returning, noticed something was very wrong. 

The door was wide open, at worst Roger would leave the door slightly cracked on his way out of the room due to the contra brand nature of their possessions, but never wide open. He then opened his email and noticed a note from his R.A that Crazy Suzy had taken pictures of their room with a covered fire detector, various bong pipes, open alcohol containers and that charges were being filed imminently. Roomie obviously panicked and waited for Roger to saunter in. 

Roger heard the news and was surprisingly relaxed about the situation, the calmed picked up up his guitar, and in the blink of an eye cut the strings and jammed his foot into the amplifier and said 'oh shit, we've had a break in'. 

After they filed counter charges against Crazy Suzy for breaking & entering, destruction of property and planting evidence, the Resident Advisor brokered a compromised where charges from both sides would be dropped. (Crazy Suzy later moved to a different floor).    

The lesson to be learnt, is that no matter who you are (or think you are) pick who you mess with, just because you have evidence doesn't mean that the other person isn't a genius of circumstance. 

3. Story of Steve: Space management

Anyone who has attended college, knows one of the most useful and hotly contested items in the dorm room is the mini-fridge. It keeps cold the booze supply and is typically full of late night sustenance food and on occasion early morning breakfast staples. 

Now Steve and his roomate 'Alex' often had difficult discussions on how to allocate the mini-fridge space. There was simply wasn't enough room for the vast amounts of pre/post party booze and the less essential things in life. 

One morning Steve woke up late and had to rush to class, he grabbed his Nalgene full of orange juice from the fridge, recounting how last night he had yelled at Alex for drinking out of it and for overloading the fridge with half empty hard alcohol bottles. Now his Nalgene bottle was full again and Steve was happy with the world (Alex was passed out snoring). 

Upon getting to class Steve took a huge swig of the juice expecting its refreshment to engulf him with energy. It tasted off. Steve assumed that Alex had used a different brand of orange juice to re-fill his Nalgene and it was simply lower quality stuff. 

Non-plussed, Steve (as was custom), drank the entire Nalgene in just a few minutes to maximize his energy boost. About 30 minutes later while in class he realized how carefree and relaxed he felt, almost like that 9 AM Econometrics was the coolest class in the world. By 9:45 he realized that he was drunk and was on the verge of puking in class. 

Then he realized what happened. Alex had emptied out the bottle of cheap vodka into the orange juice...and 'forgot' to tell Steve. (Alex later swore that it was an accident, how one could accidentally empty Vodka into a orange juice Nalgene was never explained or justified).  

Steve had consumed 1.25 litres of the most lethal Screw Driver known to man and promptly puked on the floor 20 yards from the bathroom.  

The moral of the story is that living with people involves compromise, be nice to them and they'll (largely) be nice to you. Don't piss them off or get in their grill, because they have greater access to mess with you than anyone else if your life.

4. Story of Paul: Not Mine!

I always liked red necks and red neck humor, blue collar comedy tour was one of my favourite late night shows to watch. There was a kid from the south, who I was always a bit of a fan off, but he did do some random things. 

We had gone to the Sangertown mall to grab some food and vitamins from and he recounted a recent story of a friend of his. His friend, lets call him Paul, thought of the mall as a public freak show, a homage to white trash and it was pretty common to see over weight 14-15 year old girls of the goth fashion trend pushing strollers by themselves. 

Youth pregnancies and single parent baby mommas were fairly were unfortunately pretty common in the local populace. Paul had a wicked sense of humour to say the least and saw these child moms as perfect fodder for his/our entertainment. 

Paul would walk up to to these baby carriages, block them, lean forward, inspect the baby, (sometimes prodding them) and then pronounce a sigh of relief, look at up to confused girls in question and joyously exclaim 'Not mine!.' And then promptly walk off with not a care in the world whilst high fiving every person in sight. 

If the presumed father of the baby was anywhere close by, he would stamp to the baby mama and give her a earful. The lesson being that just because someone says something, it doesn't mean its true.  

5. Story of Nate: Always keep your door Locked.

A good friend of mine used to leave his door unlocked, to make his late night bathroom jaunts easier. 

One fine Friday night, my friend Nate and his roomate went to bed early due to their early morning athletic meet the next day, Nate was half asleep when he heard the door crack open and the cheap fluorescent tube light stun the room. 

At first he thought it was his roomate and was about to turn over to the other side before he realized something was amiss. His roomate was a small scrawny kid, who was 5'5 and around 100 pounds. The person who had just stumbled into his room was at least 6 feet tall, and was conservatively anywhere between 250-300 pounds. 

Even though Nate is actually a pretty strong kid, he was scared witless, particularly as the lumbering giant approached his bed. Nate prepared himself, ready to fight for his honor with every last bit of strength emanating from his body. 

Once the giant was at his bed, he looked very confused to see Nate there, he shrugged his shoulder and then tapped ashen faced Nate on the shoulder and in the dead silence of the night said two words 'Move over.' As the giant got into bed, Nate scrambled out of his bed and jumped onto the floor as the giant, unperturbed by Nate's ferocious activity, wrapped the blanket around his torso and went to sleep. 

The kid, in his drunken stupor had mistaken Nate's room for his own, but was still charitable enough to share (what he thought was) his own bed with him. Fortunately the giant's fraternity brothers found him. After that Nate always locked his door.

 Lesson being that things are not always as they seem and even in their most intoxicated states, people have the capacity for generosity.