The lamentable end of an era...

My school web-group had an email yesterday which made me cringe. A young lad just out of school wrote an email that made me wonder how things could have changed so much in the last seven years since I left St. Edwards, Simla. For those who don’t know this already, I take great pride in my convent school education and the fact that I was lucky enough to live and stay in this environment, in Simla, for 16 formative years of my life.

From the corridors which had teachers making us chorus 'i and e, except after c', to this current forgettable state of affairs, it is rather painful to see how writing etiquette and a general lack of acknowledgement of the presence of grammar has reached this deplorable state.

I for one, somehow, still swear by the ‘Wren and Martin’ grammar book, which I think has given me access to the English that many Englishmen don’t speak today (Do I sense resentment there?). Of course, having a good vocabulary meant a lot too. The most important thing I remember learning in school though, remains, how I was advised to be contemporary yet simple. A redundant style would often be received with criticism by Mrs. Sachdeva, and coupled with resistance from folks who couldn't care less about the language et al, it would often turn riotous.

At that time, we were made to learn grammar rules and then their exceptions. Yes, they were too many; but that never took away their importance. Not for me atleast. I suppose it’s the advent of this little thing we call the ‘internet’,and our blind faith in its effectiveness/efficacy, that we find ourselves 'understanding' how the world works. A conceivably refutable argument I heard recently talked about an alternate understanding of issues in separate/separated communities, that made me think whether punctuation is disposable. Grammar rules (and their exceptions) , though not sarcosanct, are 'pointers' on "what it is". And that is what I eventually stand by.

For instance, capitalization and punctuation can mean the difference between “I helped my uncle Jack, off a horse” and “I helped my uncle jack off a horse”.

And what is the reason for following up all these sentences with an innumerable number of dots. Makes you feel like summoning Pac-man from the dead. I mean they are meant to be three in number and are meant to show continuity. But every sentence? Come on...

Am I really a freak to care this vociferously about this then? I think not, though your comments are valued and appreciated.

In other news, Holi was a crazy day (read: alcohol, bhaang and a general lack of understanding of what was going on) which followed itself by an equally crazy birthday party at Insomnia at The Taj. What made the party even crazier was the presence of an inestimable number of bimbos dressed in minimalist fashion. I went upstairs to the deck for a drink during this vulgar display of money and breasts to find the entire English cricket team getting drunk and enjoying the way the bimbos hoarded them.

People in the team don’t speak to Monty Panesar. Nor do the Bimbos.