I just got back from orientation camp for the freshies. My classmates put in a ton of hardwork over months, the freshies were enthusiastic too. All I can say is that it's been epic, thank you for the crazy memories I'll rave about to my grandchildren.
It's time for Khushwant's story.
I cannot remember exactly how when or where this whole idea came about but there were a couple of factors precipitating this chain of events. As much as it is going to contain anecdotes about orientation, it might read to some as a primer on magical theory and social dynamics.
I'm a magician
For a start, that means that I enjoy performing in front of people and sometimes am capable of thinking creatively, albeit in a twisted manner. In magic, we always try to push the boundaries of how much we can get away with and also how violently we can surprise and amaze people. Similarly, we explore how we can do the same things in a different manner, preferably in a more effective and undetectable way. I do not know how many of you have known magicians intimately (no, not in the biblical sense), but you'll realise how much attention we give to detail and how we have contingencies for almost every possibility you can think of. I think the seven years of performing magic have also driven home the mindset of trying to win the war, even though you might lose a battle here or there (also called looking at the big picture, in Raj Speak). Yet most importantly, we know how to have a truckload of fun.
I once went for a tea session in '08
When I first got my little brown envelope (metaphorically : golden ticket), I made it a point to head for the pre-camp tea session, even though I would not be joining medical school that year. I remember bumping into several old friends, making a few new ones. Yet this dude stood out conspicuously. I cannot remember what exactly it was, but he stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn't his attire, accent or anything. It was this vibe he gave out ... he was just too friendly, too confident, too at home. I can't really put it into words, but that was when I found out about this tradition. I think I made a mental note to myself. When it's my turn, I'm going to do this in a way that is going to be epic.
It looks like I am exposing this tradition of fake freshies for future generations, and it won't seem like much fun anymore. Though honestly, the ones who really give the game away are the ones who do not execute their roles properly. Like the senior I mentioned above. Trust me, I can expose a magic trick for you, and do the same one again, and you won't notice a thing.
Small attention span
My buddies from the dorm and myself have a short attention span. We realised that we were in trouble. But we were medical students so it meant that if we quit, we would be $444,000 (4 in Chinese, symbolic of death) in debt with no job so we came up with a brilliant idea. We would talk medicine to each other so we wouldn't have to spend so much time playing with out books. It worked. Every once in a while, we would switch accents, Indian, Malay, Cantonese ... We once read an entire chapter of Moore's Essential Clinical Anatomy with an Indian accent. We would make good actors.
My name is Khan
I recall sometime early this year, this movie got popular. My mom and her friends were talking about it. And the ad came on TV. One of the iconic moments of the film is when the character Shah Rukh Khan plays in the movie gets pulled into a special room for an airport security check and gets rudely whisked. He looks at the security guy in the eye and goes : "My name is Khan, and I am not a terrorist". Somehow, in my mind I went : "My name is not Singh, and I am not actually your classmate". Nice. I've been Hindu all my life though not conspicuously. I do not wear vermilion or holy ash on my forehead. I wanted to explore another religious identity and I thought it might be interesting to be Sikh, since it was one I was not totally ignorant about and it was plausible to be one, considering my cultural background. I got the first name from that of a famous indian writer; the surname, stolen from a friend. K.S.S was born.
At some point during an anatomy lecture, all of this clicked... Khushwant was conceived.
(to be continued)