They say, “A man is not finished when he is defeated, he is finished when he quits.” But sometimes, quitting isn’t losing—it’s escaping a circus run by clowns.
I gave this fest my blood, sweat, and neurons, but every effort was thrown into the trash bin of ignorance. First, they cut my time. Then, they butchered the plans. And today? The last remaining bit of liberty I had was yanked away faster than a thief in broad daylight.
A Fest or a Puppet Show?
What I thought was a cultural fest turned out to be a badly scripted puppet show—and guess who’s holding the strings?
- The great dictators of this school: Nirjai and Bijal Ma’am.
- The higher management, a bunch of out-of-touch fossils.
- The select few students, pre-selected performers recycled year after year.
A cultural fest should be a celebration of talent, freedom, and expression. Instead, this is an orchestrated mess, where decisions are made in closed rooms, creativity is strangled, and only the favored few get the limelight.
The “Final Blow” to My Efforts
Today, they pulled the final trick from their magician’s hat of incompetence. Everything I worked on, every ounce of effort, every discussion, every piece of knowledge I gathered—GONE. Trampled upon by the very people who claim to promote culture.
The saddest part? They don’t even realize what they’re destroying.
- They don’t understand the depth of literature.
- They don’t appreciate real music.
- They don’t know the difference between a cultural fest and a wedding sangeet.
If ignorance is bliss, then these people must be the happiest souls on Earth.
Meet the Masters of Disaster
Nirjai and Bijal Ma’am – The self-proclaimed directors of this circus, who single-handedly made sure true cultural essence never saw the light of day. They say, “A wise enemy is better than a foolish friend.” In this case, we got neither.
The Higher Management – A bunch of buffoons who run the school like a monarchy, making sure that no new ideas ever get past their bureaucratic red tape. Decisions are made with the wisdom of a headless chicken, and then they stand proudly, pretending everything is under control.
The Same Old Performers – What’s a fest without the same recycled students doing the same recycled performances? If you thought Bollywood sequels were bad, you haven’t seen our annual fest. The same dancers, the same singers, the same script—only the year changes.
The Final Decision – I’m Done
At this point, I’ve realized one thing—fighting a battle against people who don’t even know what they’re fighting for is pointless. I joined this fest with passion, knowledge, and the hope of bringing something new.
But what’s the point of playing music in front of the deaf?
So, here’s my final verdict: I refuse to be part of this mockery of culture.
The only thing “cultural” about this fest is how expertly they preserve ancient mindsets.
To all the students who wanted to bring change—this school doesn’t want it. To all the real artists—your talent is wasted here. And to the higher management—congratulations, you’ve successfully turned what could’ve been an actual celebration of Gujarat into a joke.
I’m done playing their game. If this is their idea of culture, then I’d rather be uncultured.