1. After elections die down, the society heads put on their thinking caps and try to come up with an event and its launch. For the purpose of illustration, we will make up a society, called Math Appreciation Society, and make up an event, called “Tests of Genius 1.0” which is basically a math test, but you pay the event heads to take it.
2. The premise is simple. You have a math contest. But the event hierarchy is anything but simple. Every society head pitches in on an increasingly gargantuan flow-chart, with as many heads as a hydra itself. Everyone wants to put all their fifty friends into the event. You don’t give posts to people, you make up posts for people, ranging from “Chief Executive of Media Equipment” (which means he presses the remote to change the slides) and “Manager of External Affairs” (what are these external affairs? Nobody knows).
3. Some kids, who are actually interested in sharing their passion for math, attempt to get a post. Isn’t that cute?
4. Launch preparations are underway. Inane suggestions such as “Maybe we can have balloons!” and “chart paper collage banatey hain!” are common at this point. All these suggestions are exclaimed in the same tone that Archimedes used in his fateful bathtub. “OHHH!” Says Event Head number 4, as if struck by holy revelation. “We can pin the posters to the notice-board, with a COMPASS instead of pins!” Everyone likes the idea.
5. So, you’ve decided on the launch. Now you need somebody to do the work. “Yaar, freshies ko pakartey hain.” Says Event Head number 2. Freshies, ready and willing to climb up the social ladder via campus drives and Facebook spamming are all too willing to surrender their lives to the cause. You learn that there are two types of freshies.
a) The ones that seniors are hoping to score with, who do absolutely nothing and drive everyone else insane.
b) The terrifyingly over-efficient willing slaves.
6. The freshies come up with half-assed Photoshop promos and the marketing team comes up with mind-numbingly stupid taglines. In the end, we get a pixelated Google-image logo slapped onto the ancient windows XP resolution wallpaper announcing a tagline in Comic Sans font. It’s brilliant. Until someone comes to their senses and hires a designer (without any sincere intention of ever paying him).
7. Armed with their arsenal of bad advertisement, the event heads are all geared to market the event. LOL, just kidding, nobody at IBA knows how to market anything. They spam the navel lint out of you. The 80% of IBA, not part of the event, watches in dismay as the zombie plague of marketing begins. They have nowhere to hide. They get added to “IBA Math Genius 2015” on Facebook. They get “PLEASE LIKE OUR PAGE” inboxes. The posters are everywhere. Resigned students put the logo as their ‘dps’. You wonder how they got your number as you receive text after text screaming at you to be part of the event.
8. The pressure is too much for certain office bearers. They curl up into fetal positions and cry. Hordes of nagging women attack the hordes of freeloading men. Statuses go up announcing someone has been booted out of the society. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND” people scream at each other. Feelings are hurt. Things are thrown.
9. The registration process commences. Rich kids with too much money register for participation. But not on time. So you extend the deadline a few hundred times until you have enough kids.
10. Costs are soaring. The designer is haunting you like a depressed perseverant ghost, demanding his payment. Who ordered the custom mug coasters? Who even NEEDED custom mug coasters? The guy who made the website is threatening to take it down unless paid. The also unpaid Panaflex printers are threatening your families with grisly death. So the finance team runs to sponsors and begs.
11. The big day arrives! The math contest is about to begin! But you realize nobody has brought the math question papers yet. Who was in charge of those? Manager of External Affairs? You call him up. He answers the phone and says he can’t come because his sister suddenly decided to get married today. The flaw in this story is that he doesn’t have a sister. You put up another status about how he has been “Relieved of his duty as tests in-charge of Genius 1.0”. Then, you project the paper on the screen. Such IBA ingenuity.
12. Awards ceremony! The certificates are still being printed though, so everyone tries to stall the audience. By, uh, making the event heads dance on the GT Audi stage. Event heads hop around like mad to a trending Indian song as the contest participants watch in frigid silence. Just more IBA ingenuity. The certificates arrive after half an hour of increasingly awkward dancing, much to universal relief.
13. It is over. But for the chapter-sized thank you statuses, it is just the beginning. Towering statuses with 60 tags begin appearing on your feed. Each of the 60 tagged people in turn puts up their own status tagging the remaining 59 people. It is like looking into a maddening hall of mirrors. Each status says the exact same thing- that this was the best event in IBA’s history, that it was impossible without what appears to be the entire population of human beings tagged, and that the socials were the best day of your life.
14. Strangely enough, a lot of the contestants seem to share the above sentiments. You know what that means? SUCCESS! On to “Tests of Genius 2.0″!
(Disclaimer: The piece is satire. Nothing is ever this bad. I think.)