Over the MUN
I used to scoff at the "MUN kid" stereotype. Obnoxious, bratty, condescending. "You don't know that also aa?"
I was not that kid. I was the kid who aced the tests, who would write an opinionated essay but whose ears would block out when handed a microphone. The one that said 'phew' after getting off stage. Going from that to winning awards at Model United Nations conferences was a plot twist Abbas-Mustan couldn't have predicted.
2023 was just one new experience after the other and I forgot to sit back for a minute and reflect on how much I'd changed. It was when my first grade teacher Kamakshi Aunty commented on a profile photo of me addressing a gathering saying "I'm so glad you finally overcame your fear of public speaking" that I realised that a change had happened at all.
In kindergarten, I was given an important set of lines in a skit for Independence Day. I came to school lines in hand, stuffed into an uncomfortable Nehru costume and a prickly rose in pocket. In perhaps not the most Nehruvian fashion, I took one look at the crowd and began bawling in my teacher's arms. I couldn't do this. I couldn't speak in front of so many people. They were all staring at me, they would laugh at me, they would think I wasn't good.
My teacher, patient and benevolent as always, tried to console me. She told me to simply look at a point ahead of me. "Don't look at their faces".
That advice helped that day. But it instilled a sub-conscious fear. I could not look at the audience in the eye. They were too powerful. They could control me. They scared me.
The fear persisted for a while. I started speaking at assemblies and class presentations. My eyes slowly rose from my notes to my familiar friend to the entire audience. My spine straightened out and my speech got clearer. My knack for expressing myself was finally visible. It felt like I was finally popping my head above the water. But, the content of the matter still needed to be scripted. To the T. I couldn't make up things, make up speeches on the spot, add funny lines or say something controversial. I was too scared of that.
There was still a lingering uneasiness in my stomach. I truly lost that uneasiness thanks to MUNs.
Let me start at the beginning. Technically, my first MUN was at my own small school. Kaniyan, our very own Daksha hero, had had a taste of the outside world. He'd interacted with other school students at an MUN (unimaginable for us) and decided to bring us a piece back. We were to have a simulation of the UN. The agenda was the US-China trade wars, of which I knew nothing, and I was to be China. My Donald Trump for the day was the smartest kid in school and the pit in my stomach looked like good competition for the Mariana Trench.
I spent all week poring over "How to MUN" videos, trading articles and by-hearting the meanings of economic terms far beyond my age. D-Day arrived and all my speeches were a blur. I remember grabbing my notebook for emotional support as I slowly delivered my addresses.
MUNs essentially involve students "representing" different countries in a UN committee. They deliberate on a given agenda. The usual conclusion is with a draft resolution or a press release, that is voted on by other delegates. One is expected to lobby countries on to their bloc.
The US draft resolution had flaws, but our motley group of Daksha students did not heed that. Most of them hadn't done much prep. They knew they were supposed to support the US and so they voted in its favour. Our DR had no mistakes, but they refused to vote for young, slim Xi's DR.
I thought that meant we had failed. I was disheartened but quickly accepted it. I knew this was going to happen. I wasn't that smart. At the end, they announced the best delegates. I frowned at Mansi as they announced USA. Of course!
"But we have a tie. People's Republic of China, please stand up"
I was over the moon. I was a champion. I had conquered the world.
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It's important to understand that this was not an MUN. This was thirty children, sitting on kindergarten plastic chairs on the terrace our school building. But to me, I was the best public speaker in the world. Simon Sinek, move aside.
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But public speaking up until 11th grade was not really "public" speaking. It was speaking to my class of fourteen people, all of whom I'd known for years and my teachers, who had seen me as a child.
Coming to Obul Reddy, I knew that whatever achievements I thought I'd had so far were in for a serious humbling. They announced YUGEN about three months into school. It was an intra-school MUN. It had six committees (what are committees? aren't all the kids in one committee?) including International Press. I knew I wanted to take part, but I also knew I was going to have to accept that I was the underdog here. There were experienced MUNers, with big names and titles next to their name.
Siddharth initially told me to go with International Press. It seemed fun. I could live my journalistic dreams. But I was in a certain 'You Only Live Once' era. I wanted to speak. In front of a huge crowd. I wanted to cross my limits. Even if I said something stupid or I made a mistake, at least I could tell my kids "that's the day your mom made a fool of herself".
I was assigned Brunei in a security committee. Once again, a country I didn't know existed. This was the largest committee with sixty people in it.
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| dramatic |
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| BITS campus - got lost quite a bit |
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| home after alethia |
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| kaniyan was charge'd affaires at YUGEN |
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I went with print-outs and word documents and citations on hand. But nothing can prepare you for your first MUN really. All you can do is be optimistic.
I can best describe Brunei's performance on day1 as a people pleaser. My speeches were safe, uncontroversial, overly diplomatic and had no meat. I didn't offend anybody. Not China, not the US. I was the Ms. Congeniality of DISEC. It was similar with most of the others. There were only four or five experienced delegates in the committee.
Committee ended with a harsh reality check from our chairperson. No research, no direction, not addressing the real problems.
I knew the first part was wrong. I had research, I just lacked passion. I went back home that day and switched off my phone. I was filled with an odd patriotism for Brunei. A small country. Not taken seriously by many. I almost related to Brunei. If I was representing my Bruneian countrymen, what would I feel?
What did I think was wrong? How was this decision affecting my country? How would this hurt my people? What did my country deserve from the UN?
I wrote a couple speeches and read them out to my father on the ride to school. I felt passionate, I felt personally involved and most of all, I felt convinced. And once you're convinced, fully convinced about something, it's not that hard to convince other people.
Brunei was going to kick some Chinese ass.
I stopped thinking about what the people beside me felt that day. They were just people. Like me. I was pushing myself out of my comfort zone. Nothing else mattered. I gave good speeches that day. I looked people in the eye, I felt powerful, I felt influential. I gave a final argument against China's proposal. I took things apart and I helped our DR pass. I felt good.
At the awards ceremony, I got a special mention. The third highest award they gave out that day. I didn't know MUNs had awards before that. But for my first time, it was pretty good I hear.
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Around a month later, Siddharth told me to go to a different MUN. He was supposed to be Head of IP there. I registered as a reporter. It was my first time reporting and it would help to know someone there. This was not going to be like YUGEN. It wasn't all my batchmates and seniors. There were going to be kids' from schools all over the city. There were going to be a lot more people, a lot more attitudes.
A week or two before the MUN, things changed. Someone else was going to be the Head. I was scared now. I knew nobody at this school and there was nobody going from mine. I was going to be the underdog. Again. I tried to learn what I could about IP in the days before the conference. Siddharth coached me on hour-long phone calls. I went on my first day with a driver. We sat in the car together for half an hour before I got out.
I met my fellow reporters and photographers. I spoke to them about how it was my first time and how I was nervous. Perhaps I overshared or perhaps they weren't in the mood, but they seemed combative. I was assigned DISEC and I made my way to my committee room.
Most of being a reporter is listening. You had deadlines for articles, but to get any meat in those articles, you had to listen.
On my first day, I didn't write a word in committee. I sat and took notes and listened. There was a lot of procedural time wasted and a lot of repetitive things said. I reported everything as I saw it.
The next day, we all received feedback on our articles. It lacked journalistic sense. I didn't fully understand what that meant. All I was capable of back then was creative pieces. I wrote absurdly gripping pieces for my creative articles. But that conference taught me what being a journalist meant. Not a writer. A journalist.
A journalist looks for the story. They read between the lines. They look for consequences. They say uncomfortable things because that's what people needed to hear. They separate the fancily-dressed statements of the delegates from their country's real-world actions and put it out for people to look at.
The difference between a good article and a great article was relevance. At all points while writing I needed to start asking myself - Why does the reader need to know this? How does this make any difference?
But the main life-changing experience was the press conference.
A press conference is an event where leaders and dignitaries take questions from the media and give information. In an MUN, it's a chance for reporters to question delegates on their statements.
I'd seen Siddharth tear apart people's arguments at YUGEN, point out every flaw and pick people's speeches apart. I was a little scared of him that day. He was cocky and witty and he didn't give people time to breathe. He made people look like they were shitting their pants. How I would match up to that I had no idea.
My IP head amped up the pressure by telling us the press conference would make up for a huge chunk of our marking. We had to do this one well. What I've picked up is that a good press conference has two elements. Preparation and Extreme AssHole behaviour.
By preparation, I mean, have everything you want to ask ready. Pick a contradiction between what someone said and what they've done in the past. Have all your facts ready, don't let them surprise you or belittle you on the day. Don't give them an opportunity to spin words around. Ask them close-ended, incisive questions and trap them in their own web.
And by extreme cockiness, I mean, well, pretend you're the smartest, most important person in the world. Treat them like you're an asshole of an older brother laughing at your toddler cousin's lamentations. Treat them like dirt. Look them in the eye and make sure they have fear in theirs.
I assure you, my sadism begins and ends in the committee room. I'm a very nice person. Truly.
Alethia ended with a Best Reporter award. But I knew I had a lot to improve on. The articles weren't as gripping as they should've been nor were they as professional.
Alethia taught me what I was capable of. Whatever I did there was all me. Even with my nerves, my lack of general history and my fear of crowds, I did it.
I did another MUN after that. It was at BITS Hyderabad. It was much larger scale and we had people coming in from different colleges and schools. I was reporting again. This time competing with my former IP Head. As usual, I had good fun, made some friends and ate some good food. We stayed at a suspicious-looking hotel. I got to bunk with Arni and Tvisha, getting lost on the campus with Naina and talking to new people.
MUNs have done me a world of good. Of course, they've instilled a more permanent confidence in myself and my abilites. I was able to do things, speak to crowds and make friends on my own. But it did more than that. It made me comfortable discussing politics, something I was fascinated and intimidated by for long. It got me back into writing. It also got me questioning things around me. There was nothing to fear anymore.
It's an amazing concept really. They bring dozens of teenagers together and get them to talk about and come up with solutions to real-world issues. It gives people a sneak peek into what decision-making and global co-operation can actually look like. Moreover, it gets them to care about things bigger than themselves. They get to interact with institutions like government, media, military, banking and more. And of course , they get to meet other people and learn. They get to strike conversation. They get to mess up and learn about what else they could do.
I think the MUN world can appear hostile or scary to some. Maybe it appears too intellectual or the crowd seems too intimidating. But that's what MUNs are good for. They show you that everyone else is also just as uninformed, unaware and amateur-like. They've just studied a little more about something or in most cases, just have disproportionate levels of confidence. It's a fun opportunity to stick your nose in a tiny corner of the massive realm of world affairs. And if it's not your cup of tea, atleast you got a free chai-biscuit from a rich school.
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