I walked in today thinking, Finally, things are sorted. We’ll get this done. But oh no, the universe had other plans—because a dog never lets go of its tail, and an elephant never forgets its chains.
The buffoons in charge have managed to push the limits of incompetence yet again. Today, they played the so-called dairo audio—an audio, not even a rehearsal. And what did we get? A 15-minute joke. Fifteen minutes. That’s how much depth they think Gujarati literature deserves. Fifteen minutes—barely enough time to introduce what a dairo even is. But that wasn’t the real crime. No, the real crime was the charan kanya performance.
Out. Of. Tune. Completely.
Not even close. Not even in the same universe as the original. It was so horrendous that I’m convinced they found this singer in a parallel timeline where music never existed. Who approved this? Who listened to this and thought, “Yes, this is culture”?!
And while my brain was still processing that auditory trauma, the 9th-grade girls entered. The new cartoons of this school, eager to join the madness. And as if the heavens hadn’t cursed me enough, the boys decided to join too. Suddenly, the chaos tripled. Now we weren’t just dealing with clueless management—we had a full-fledged festival of distractions.
But fine, let’s focus. Let’s try to fix things. I asked the dictators in charge, “We need more time for practice.”
Response? “No. The higher management said so.”
Oh, the higher management—that divine, all-knowing force that somehow manages to run a school without an ounce of logic or planning. The geniuses who handed me a cultural fest only to sabotage it at every turn.
I offered a solution. “We’ll stay back an hour after school.”
Response? “We will not take your responsibility.”
Oh? But you’ll take responsibility for a cultural fest so mismanaged that even a circus has better organization?
You won’t take responsibility for students who actually want to make the event better, but you will take responsibility for handing out performances like lottery prizes to the same few favorites every year?
This isn’t a cultural fest. This is a rigged, clueless, half-baked, last-minute, ego-driven scam disguised as an event.
I came here thinking I was leading a fest. What I actually walked into was a power struggle between fools who have no idea what they’re doing but refuse to listen to those who do.
And honestly? I think this school is becoming a distraction for me, not the other way around.
The lesson here isn’t about organizing a cultural fest. It’s about how long a person can survive sheer incompetence before losing their mind.