Picture1

KANKANHALLI | Is Silence Complacency?

The modern political landscape needs no introduction. Domestically and internationally, the gaffes and wrongdoings of those in power echo with dramatic ricochet. As civilians, most of us thankfully equipped with moral compasses and appetites for justice, we respond and we participate. We compete for our myriad viewpoints to be heard in a sea of stubborn politicians, and understandably so: our voices are our primary — and sometimes only — vehicles with which to elicit change. Yet, this collective context — relying on volume alone to capture the attention officeholders — creates an unhealthy rift.

Picture1

KANKANHALLI | Office Hours: An Exposé

There’s a saying that goes something like, “it’s all about who you are when nobody’s watching.” It’s the principle behind the Panopticon, but it isn’t too far removed from daily life. It’s open to interpretation, but I take it as an appeal to some internal sense of morality. Do good, be good, even in solitude, even despite an entire force of chaotic energy at your disposal. It isn’t a huge ask — maintaining civility in the absence of an audience — but, admittedly, it isn’t my natural instinct when I enter a sweet, relieving, empty room. That is what I was hoping it would be — a sweet, relieving, empty room — when I strolled into my weekly office hours on Sunday, a confidential number of minutes tardy, footlong sub in hand, ripe for consumption.

Picture1

KANKANHALLI | Woman Versus Wild

Asked to outline their morning routines, many would allude to breakfast, a hot shower, or some form of planning or light productivity. Early risers may describe a zen-like energy in anticipation of the day to come. Late bloomers — I’m speculating — would likely miss the question altogether in the midst of incessant alarm-snoozing and hastily dunking essentials into an overflowing carryall. In most aspects, my morning routine is not much different. It follows a similar arc, customized with the staples of student life: waking up with the sharp regret of failing to fall asleep sooner, munching on a granola bar and running some quick calculations on how much more, if any, of my attendance grade could be sacrificed.

Picture1

KANKANHALLI | Not About What’s Next

The start of every new school year brings with it a rush of emotions: excitement, anticipation, motivation and a slew of other positively-connotated feelings. O-Week rewards us prematurely with waves of blissful ignorance and the chance to bask in ironic nonchalance at a rigorous institution. The shrewd among us manage to reign over Add/Drop so supremely that they might not have a real class for weeks (kudos!). At the advent of Senior Year, though, I find myself grappling with a different set of emotions -— impatience, urgency and agitation prime among them. At the heart of this agitation is the paradox of choice.

Picture1

KANKANHALLI | Who Taught You That?

It’s National Teacher Appreciation Week! I, for one, am proud to express my gratitude for my educators past and present…from the comfort of my bedroom, as I consciously neglect attending class…but still! Gratitude! Laziness aside, it’s crucial to actively realize the impact of educators. The humility that characterizes most teachers I’ve known frequently goes unrecognized.

Picture1

KANKANHALLI | On Religious Warfare

Asifa Bano bore witness to the utmost depths of human cruelty in only her eight years of life. She died at the metaphorical intersection of Hinduism and Islam in Jammu and Kashmir, a dispute-ridden territory contested by India and Pakistan for ages. Bano’s birth into a nomadic Muslim community sealed her fate tighter than any inherited characteristic ever should. Her title was compelling enough to invite gang-rape, beating and strangulation from Hindu occupants of Kashmir. No apology is enough.

Picture1

KANKANHALLI | Hungry For Justice

The realization that most on-campus eateries are closed on weekends strikes me as a fresh blow every time I remember. Are we, the students, presumed to be fasting on weekends? Have weekends somehow still maintained their rosy reputations as periods of rejuvenation rather than periods of barreling anxieties? I don’t mean to speak for the entire student body, but I have a feeling that this bold claim carries a speck of universal truth: we’re still alive on weekends! We’re not hibernating, pleasant as that would be, and we’re absolutely in need of sustenance.

Picture1

KANKANHALLI | Who’s Behind the Trigger?

Voices flock to controversy like bees to honey. The case surrounding the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High shooting is no outlier — without delay, a multitude of sentiments regarding the affair has peppered the national landscape. As in prior responses to tragedy, we have heard vehement accounts from survivors, onlookers, afflicted families, and of course, politicians. This is precisely what we would hope for in response to an unthinkable calamity, is it not? Hardly.

Picture1

KANKANHALLI | Why the Super Bowl?

You’re told to write about what you know — with good reason, in order to avoid assuming the likeness of a total dud and expounding on topics that are far beyond your expertise. Today, though, decorum begs to be broken as I attempt to comprehend the national spectacle that is the Super Bowl. Powerful enough to coax a purr out of President Donald J. Trump, Super Bowl LII transported us to an alternate universe where viewers’ pride and happiness are inextricably linked to the wins of their athletic counterparts. [Spoiler Alert] “Congratulations to the Philadelphia Eagles on a great Super Bowl victory!” — a tweet posted last night from Trump’s own account, staggering and confounding in its authenticity, begins to capture the scope of this annual match. Such a priority is the occasion, in fact, that previous commitments are rescheduled and responsibilities are dismissed for a fateful few hours.

Picture1

KANKANHALLI | I Never Learn

What do a green circle, a blue square and a yellow triangle all have in common? You might recognize these humble shapes by their sturdier aliases: Open, Closed, Wait List. Student Center’s three beloved icons, occupying hardly a few pixels on screen, command quite a few fates. In my experience, they share a mandate to gamble recklessly with my intellectual journey. They taunt me, as if saying “it would be a shame if you accrued massive debt to attend Cornell and didn’t glean a single practical thing from your stay, huh?”

Yeah, it would be.