I hate conferences
and there is a good reason for my hatred. First of all the ceremonial shit.
“We welcome one and
all. We thank the dean madam for showing interest and encouragement, the HOD
madam for her guidance and Dr so and so for working tirelessly.” Some sari clad
retard mouths. And now let me invite Dr so and so for “Ganesh Vandana”, the
best way to begin anything.”
Yea…Ganesh Vandana,
The Ganesh, first mythological cases of Xenotransplant, the lord of wisdom. I
find it vexing whenever there is even a fucking tinge of religious shit at
platforms which ought to be secular.
On my way here I got
talking to the taxi driver. Md. Yusuf, 25 years old. I asked his opinion about
local and national political scene. The man had no idea and voiced nothing but monochromatic
platitudes. He did not know about anything. I did not blame him, even though
his profound ignorance was lamentable. The man earns about 12000 per month.
Father and elder brother are dead, one elder sister is married and Yusuf is taking
care of his mother like a good son. He is busy making the ends meet and is
working at the logistics and finances for getting married. He told me that 60%
of Mumbai population is muslim. I doubt that. He says that central part of city is
almost all filled with muslims. At the conference I went through the names of
participants. I could find only five muslim names. Just five out of two hundred
and thirty. In this country muslims are fucking absent in
sciences/academics/medicine. Shit is pathetic.
I get up from the
back seat in the auditorium I have occupied and move over to the other side of
the hall where I can plug in my laptop and write this blog. In the meantime the
first speaker is receiving memento for whatever she talked about for the first
20 minutes and the audience are clapping with limp and partly paralyzed hands.
Fuck this. The next speaker starts with history of autopsy and straight away
dives into the ancient India and begins acquainting the audience to the
glorious Indian history of autopsies.
The speakers are
irritating. Most of them are just reading what is written in the power point
presentation. C’mon dudes and fucking dudettes, let me hear something original.
I have already been to the outside to smoke once. I intend to slip out gain
after 20 minutes.
A dude is talking
about clinical perspective of autopsies. I just want to hear one thing; in how
many cases had the autopsy actually helped the man and provided the additional
unexpected information. He is rattling mortality figures in his hospital and
the number of autopsies performed. The most important aspect remains
unmentioned. The man has typical male baldness pattern and supports a French
cut. He deserves my overt ridicule and sarcasm.
MOTHERFUCKERS……
Fucking moron
moderator does not even invite the questions from the audience. The bald fellow
receives the memento and the next speaker is invited promptly. I think I am
going to need a drink or two or may be a fucking few this evening.
Next cat is boring
in the extreme. Not only it appears that someone else has prepared his powerpoint
since he appears to have no clue what is written where. He is going back and
forth and the each slide is carrying about two fucking dozen sentences. and
that too in font size 28 and in bold. The slides are epileptic’s nightmare. No
color is left out. The shit head has already overshot his time by full fucking
20 minutes and after each couple of sentences he is fumbling to find out the
next lines. He is fond of uttering OK…OK? every time he is taking time to
decide what he is going to read aloud next. No…it is NOT fucking ok, you
fucking turd. The man is retired professor. For fuck sake he should know how to
bullshit on the podium.
Irritating as it is
to sit through it all, watching dumb, dumber and dumbest coming forth and
farting, I take comfort in the fact that my academic future, should I chose, is
bright, very bright indeed. At least in India.
The autopsy demonstration
goes on for the next two and a half hour. The organs are taken out and
carefully separated and dissected. Everything is ok. BUT the video, who so ever
made and edited it, thought it proper to put the background instrumental music
“another day in paradise” Another day in paradise goes on repeatedly as the
organs are taken out, separated and dissected.
Back at home when I
had received the brochure for the workshop I contacted the organizers telling
them that what I am doing in the field, no one else is doing at least in this
country. To emphasize the magnitude of my deeds, I wrote down a list of shit I
have been working on for the last two years. I asked for at least 30 minutes of
talking time which was outrageous to ask since I knew they had already planned
everything and allotted time to different speakers. The organizers decided to
make an exception for me. I was given 20 minutes. I wanted to come here, the
shit hole of metropolis since my sisters in laws live in this city both of who
are excellent and I am a huge fan of all my in laws.
The Chief announces
that the material being presented is copyrighted and asks the participants not
click any pics or make videos. I want to ask her whether permission for using
instrumental “another day in paradise” was taken or not.
When my turn comes,
I announce that everyone can take all the pics they want or make videos since
most of the material I am going to present is already published and it is not my headache as far as
copyright infringement is concerned. It is publisher’s. The audience laugh. I
tell them that I am for free information and whenever I accumulate
material on internet for literature review, I never pay a dime. I tell the audience a
couple of website they can download free academic content from. I also tell
them how to download free movies and where.
I present my thing
and take 24 minutes.
After presentation I
am mobbed. People approach me and congratulate. “It was an excellent
presentation” most of them say. Others keep a discreet distance. I want to tell them
that it is not that my presentation is excellent but the rest of the material
being presented is plumbing new depths in mediocrity. My presentation is
average at best and all it has is common sense. But I know most of my admirers
will not understand it so I keep mum and politely thank them for the
compliments. However the attention fucks up my anonymity. I begin to feel extremely uncomfortable.
I
jump into the taxi and flee before the day’s proceedings are over.
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