MISS J….. (from the archives)

Author’s Note: Well, I know this one is hell similar to aru’s recent post about antz…….still bear wid me…..as for aru, b4 filing a plagiarism case, just consider that I am ready to pay royalty…so all comments (I mean brickbats, dats all wat I get….) on this post are dedicated to u….nd a treat at KNAGS promised…………………..

As I entered my room last afternoon after another gruelling session of four block lectures (I slept through most of them inspite of Kundu’s “hunkaars” and BSP’s bherification of the hard “diks”. I don’t have a grudge against block lectures as such but just that you have to change your sleeping position every hour. can’t they place all the four lectures in the same room. I tell you guya, IIT management sucks….) followed by such sickening food that sometimes I get a feeling that we all are just a part of some research work that IIT is carrying out clandestinely to develop “biological” weapons of mass destruction (Anyways, this is highly classified intelligence information, so please don’t leak the news else US might cancel the N-deal and Left would be left with nothing to do. Actually I like to see the embarassed look on my recently married cousin’s face as I ask him the headlines in the morning and he hides his face behind the newspaper reading “HONEYMOON OVER, MARRIAGE CONTINUES”.), I found a “Uromastyx hardwickii”, aka lizard or gecko, or our very own chhipkali (remember those stupid childhood riddles, “ek kali jo kabhi nahi khilti”) enjoying her (I’m as such not sure about her sex but I spent around half an hour analysing him/her from different angles and positions, switched on my lights, then switched them off, tried blocking the sunlight, which nature has so bountifully bestowed on my room, but to no avail. (Actually sunlight is one of the main reasons why I go everyday to attend the lectures, as I can no longer sleep in my room after 7.) But when it comes to perseverance and dedication, I am never found wanting. So I tried reading all lizard encyclopedias on Internet, but may be because of the recent feminist movement in lizard community, no discrimination was made between males and females. Still, me being me, I called up one of my friends in AIIMS and asked his views on this matter of national importance. Following his advice, I hunched down and tried to see her lower body, I mean the underside to check, what my learned friend chose to call, her/his contours. But maybe he had forgotten that I am in IIT and if contours were the sure-shot method of distinguishing between the wiser and the fairer sex, then you bet IIT has 100% reservation for boys. Anyways, I finally called up my driver (He has often told me anecdotes of how he used to pick the rats and lizards by their tails and enjoy himself (such a sadist, or was he being a masochist)) and asked him the same perplexing question which the brightest minds in IIT and AIIMS had failed to answer. He gave me a suggestion to take a pen and roll her/him over. Well, i am not exactly lizardo-phobic but playing rock and roll with a lizard is not exactly my idea of fun. So being a feminist (actually I m not. Who the hell ever thinks over such topics. just that it sounds kewl saying so to girls….), I decided that he/it was a she.))(I hope the parenthesis are balanced. May be I should first compile this article before posting) siesta on my bed.(I hope this qualifies as one of the longest sentence ever, or else the shortest paragraph).

I don’t remember I had ever put up a notice inviting room-mates to share my loneliness. But here she was, lying on my bed, her slender tail curled around in a seductive manner and I decided may be a little company would do me no harm. Hold on guys, before your imagination runs wild, let me clarify that I tried stomping my feet as loudly as I could, but when even Metallica blastin’ at full volume from my modest speakers could not disturb her, I decided to accept her as a roomie just to keep my ego satiated. Having accepted her as my new room-mate I decided to christen her Miss J (yes dear, it’s MISS not MRS). Though I had made all my efforts to get her up had fallen on deaf ears, still now as she was my room-mate, I decided to let her enjoy her sleep, put off the music and went to have a bath (Yeah, sometimes I do. Just for a change. I hope it doesn’t develop into a hobby or addiction). Bathrooms are an integral part of hostel life, though generally they are used for other purposes (minimum twice a day) than bathing (which is kind of a religious ritual performed once a week). With the onmi-un-present shower cap missing in all the three bathrooms, I decided to borrow a bucket from GMAT. As I approached his room, I saw a distant cousin of Miss J dozing off in his room as well but mercifully on his computer table. Anyways, I didn’t get the bucket, instead GMAT gave me a shocked look (as if I had accused him of shaking hands with Sanjay Dutt) saying “saale ********* abhi parso hi to nahaya tha, tabiyat to theek hai. Aur tune mujhe samajh kya rakha hai, main khud auron se maang kar nahata hoon”. The day before….just two days…and again I was thinking of bathing…..well not willing to become the laughing stock of the hostel, I gave up my bathing plans and went to the bathroom. After half an hour, when I got back to my room, Miss J had perched on my window enjoying the scintillating panorama (scintillating……yeah, the garbage dump below my room does look scintillating when compared to the condition of my room). With Minors just round the corner, I decided to ignore her for the time being and started studying one of the five sucking mathematics courses I am doing this year (see how innocently i have tried to pass on the information that I am doing five MAL courses this semester, in order to gain those respectful awes from you….i tell you, we IITians are the biggest sucking egoists…..), but she had different intentions. Seeing her darting around the room chasing mosquitoes (which again the nature has so bountifully bestowed upon this humble being’s room), her sleek artistically carved body clinging to the walls, as she effortlessly glided as in free space, I couldn’t concentrate on why a compact set in a Hausdroff space needs to be closed. Who the hell can?? So with due respect to Hausdroff and Kundu, I decided to close the book and rather concentrate on miss J only.

During weekends, when I invariably find myself at my home watching BABA RAMDEV’s stomach-churning-ballet-dance (what Baba does with his stomach, shakira does more elegantly with her hips…someone go show him the video….) with my dad, I always think who the hell actually follows what he preaches. But in my new room-mate, I found a true bhakt of baba ramdev (just to digress, Ramdev always reminds me of Mahesh Bhatt….both can’t keep off their asses from any matter, be it Indian cricket team or Emraan’s kissing spree…). With her hind legs (I don’t want to offend my lizard readers, but I wasn’t sure whether the front two limbs are called hands or legs…..) holding her firm, she was precariously (for me) attempting a “sheesh-otthan aasana” with her body and front legs hanging in free space defying all laws of gravity. Being a firm believer in Newton and Murphy’s laws, I quickly got off my bed, and positioned myself to be in a position of minimum risk in case….with my eyes focussed on her every movement. Her two black eyes, her “V-shaped” mouth,……awwww……it gives me a creepy feeling even wriiting this…..anyways the day passed off almost uneventfully, what with me always on the guard, with my door open, and stupidly sleeping on my chair rather than my bed (I was just being a little accomodating, in case she again felt like having a little nap). One of the main reasons why by the time I finally decided to go to bed around 2 in the morning with an aching back, I held her in high esteem is that she almost single-handedly ate all the mosquitoes in my room ( almost single-handedly…..cuz by now, the mosquitoes have got so accustomed to ALL-OUT that they rather like its fragrance). Given her kind act, I felt maybe we could enjoy a symbiotic relationship, so I decided to open the window to replenish the supply of mosquitoes in my room, but seeing another gecko on the outer window, I felt maybe over-eating would ruin her health. Anyways, I hadn’t been asleep for more than half an hour when a crawling sound awoke me. Miss J was now slowly moving on the window grill. For a moment, I thought that she is hot on pursuit of another mosquito (all so that her room-mate could sleep peacefully) and suddenly felt proud of her. I can tolerate mosquitoes but the constant “khash-khash” sound, ahhhh…gawd…..so I again got up and started watching her acrobatic genius (may be she can get us a gold medal in the next olympics. Ever since Chak De, everyone believes that only girls can do it).

(as always, to be contd………God knows when…..)

S01E05: The Tense Tummy Trauma

Kids, different people have differnet ways of feeling as well as expressing anxiety. Some people start sweating so much that no amount of AXE effect can help them, some develop a headache, some feel suffocated and worse still some wet their pants. I like to take things one level higher.

Yes, your superdad suffers from what they call the tense tummy trauma. So, on the eve of every big day in my life, be it exam results, JEE, first date, first make-out, I get to know how excited/anxieted I am not from my increased heart beat but from the sweet cacophony emanating from a little lower. I know Darwin would have approved of it as a natural anxiety control measure. You get so busy with the knots in your stomach and regular visits to the washroom that you no longer have time to dwell upon your original worries. Yeah, it didn’t make for a pleasant scene on my first date with Divya but she must have had fun discussing it with her friends later on.

Ok, Ok, you must be wondering how I can be a superdad if I suffer from a stupid triple-T trauma but kids, you must know that there are atleast seventy-three documented benefits of this condition and I am going to share one of them with you today.

Aristotle once famously said, “Every story has a beginning, a middle and an end” (Yeah, these Greeks wasted all their time stating the obvious. No wonder they had to borrow money even from erstwhile Pakistan). But he didn’t say which should come first. So, I’ll tell you this incident from the end of my IIT life skipping the beginning and middle for the time being.

Kids, the MTP (pronounced as empty pee and written as MT :P) presentation marks the last academic day of one’s IIT life. In twenty minutes, the professors judge the project over which you’ve toiled for more than a year. Even a movie was made on this theme starring SRK where he delivered his famous speech, “Bees minute, bees minute hai tumhare paas. Shayad yeh.. tumhare zindagi ke sab se… khaas bees  minute. Aaj tum aacha bolo ya bura, yeh bees minute tumhe zindagi bhar yaad rahegi. Is bees minute ke torture se tumhe khuda bhi nahi bacha sakta” (Or maybe it was hockey, my memory fails me). Sounds unfair. But the grading system is quite transparent. If you manage to keep them awake for less than five minutes, you get a D, ten minutes-C, fifteen minutes (only three reported cases in the last fifty years), it’s a B. Oh, and if they are up for the entire twenty minutes, you are dead. ‘Cause this is possible only if they found a flaw somewhere in your presentation (wrong slide number, small font size, poor aesthetics/organization) and spent the entire twenty minutes castrating you, humiliating you on your inability to make a nice PPT even after five years in IIT. Who gets an A then? Well, fifteen minutes plus some menial jobs for the supervisor generally does the trick.

I had my presentation ready three days in advance with utmost care for font size, colour and style, edited a book for my inviligator and took enough lozenges to wake up the dead. So, I was pretty confident just before the D-day when the evil triple T caught me with my pants down. No, actually it was the one responsible for taking my pants down.

The PPT was scheduled for 9 in the morning and I was worried that I might not get up in time. But it made sure that I was up and running (from washroom to washroom) by six. In between, I borrowed toothpaste, shampoo and soap from here and there and got ready for the final battle, the battle between knowledge (mine) and ignorance (theirs), hardwork (mine) and sloth (theirs), night-outs (mine) versus sleepy day-outs (theirs) . I reached the department building at half past eight and when I eventually came out of the washroom at two minutes to nine, I looked at it longingly like dreamy-eyed lovers promising to come back, just give me twenty minutes. But I had forgotten something very important. Something very very important.

S01E04: The Engineering Dichotomy

Earlier in this series: The Silicon Classification

Kids, when you are pursuing an engineering degree from the premier technology college in the country, life is not really a bed of roses; and mind you I am not alluding to academics. Think of it, you are just a normal nerd one day, just another happy good for nothing kid…and then you crack JEE…whoosh….suddenly people start seeing reflections of the next Einstein, Newton, Bose in you. You find yourself sucked into a web of expectations like a hapless insect, who found the silk too alluring. All of a sudden, your parents seem to suffer from selective amnesia, forget your name (which they themselves gave you) and start introducing you as, “IIT me hai…mera beta hai…” No name, no nonsense. The uncle next door who always hated you more than Lord Voldemort ever hated Harry, suddenly has a change of heart. Now, instead, his daughter starts hating you cuz he would always taunt her saying, “use dekho….tumhaari umar ka hai…IIT me admission ho gaya. Sharmaji bata rahe the 1 lakh ki scholarship bhi mili hai…..garv se phoole nahi samaa rahe the….aur ek tum ho donation dekar IP college me correspondence me admission karwaya hai. Main toh kehta hoon yeh padhaai likhaai ka dhong chhod kar ghar ke kaam-kaaj par dhyaan do….” As if, we the romantically challenged IITians needed girls to have more reasons to hate us.

But that is not all. The biggest problem is the people’s inability to differentiate between an engineer (and a computer engineer at that) and a mechanic. If the fan is not working and you can not repair it, well then what good is your engineering degree? Just theory. Rote-learning. Oh, the fuse has blown off. You don’t know how to put it back in place, but the guy next door (whose dad happens to be an electrician) knows. He is a practical man, a man of the world, who can solve his problems on his own. And while he proudly repairs the fuse, you can only look at him and wonder if the colour code of the wires is right (cuz that’s all you know). This problem is more aggravated by the simple fact that your dad (yes, I’ll skip the sobriquet superdad, just once here) did his majors in Mathematics. So, I had to face a lot of these conversations:

Dad: IIT me hai…mera beta hai.

Relative/ Neighbour/ Random guy on the road who happened to ask time (let’s call him X) :Good. Kis branch me hai?

Dad: Mathematics and Computing.

X: Mathematics??? Yeh kaisi engineering hai?? IIT  kaunse wala??? aajkal har gali me engg.  college khul gaye hain…bhole bhaale logo ko paagal banaate hain.

And my dad would give me the look as if the stranger had just told him that I was gay.

But, I think somewhere these people were right. Your superdad might have had the most extra-ordinary mathematical skills but when it came to practical life, he was often found wanting. I won’t say that I am colour-blind but my faculties are more or less limited to the three primary colours RGB, white and black. So, I find it extremely difficult to distinguish red from maroon and pink from magenta. And as regards the subtleties and nuances of mauve and fawn colours, the lesser said the better. As such, I always have to be very conscious while paying compliments to the girls in my life.

Me: You are looking very pretty today. This color really suits you.

She: Thank You. But that day also, I was wearing purple and you didn’t like it.

Me: Purple? Is that even a color?

She: What color do you think this is?

Me (realizing that I have got myself entangled in a chakravyuha from which there is no way out; sheepishly): Purple, right. I just got a little confused between purple and maroon.

She(almost giggling): Show me who is wearing maroon here in the restaurant?

Me (after looking around 360 degrees): I love you.

She (laughing): Why is there a cut on your left cheek? Don’t tell me you shaved again today.

Yes, kids. While your superdad knew all the principles and equations of force by heart, he never learned how much pressure one has to apply while shaving. There is not a millimeter on my face which  I didn’t cut before I finally retired and started going to the barber. It’s not that I didn’t try. I tried everything, be it straight razor,  double-edged razors, single edge, injector razors, cartridge razors or disposable razors; soap, cream, gel or foam; but  my precision and accuracy was always enviable. What more should I say but that on the days when I shaved, my father would introduce me as, “College me hai….padhai chal rahi hai abhi.” No IIT, no son.

Beauty and the J…

You must have noticed the reduced frequency of posting on this blog. What to do, I stay at home mostly these days, so not much to really write about. But after almost two months, I am spending this entire week in the hostel. And already I have had a fair amount of drama….empty wallets….spilling ice-creams….chattering girls….and the super-nerd me.

So, me and V decided to meet after like almost eight months…not almost….but exactly eight months. Last time we met on 16th June. Now, we aren’t the bestest of friends but we do get along nicely. We had an okayish time but later I found out that her friends didn’t like my hair-do. Seriously, they blame me for that? They should try living in a hostel for sometime. For four years I used to buy a new bucket at the beginning of every semester. And every time, within three days, it was nowhere to be found. My toothpaste spends more time in Tommy’s room than mine, his shaving cream is generally found with Sahil, Sahil’s comb is perennially in Gurtej’s room. Hey, wait a second, what does Guru do with a comb, he doesn’t have any hair….or does he? Never seen them, must be hidden somewhere. Anyway, the point is that bathing in hostel requires atleast three days of planning, collecting soap, bucket, mug, shampoo etc etc from different rooms. And then on the D-day, you realize that the hair-oil is in Deva’s room who has gone home for two days. Plan cancelled! Maybe God doesn’t want me to bathe. So, really we shouldn’t be blamed for our shabby appearance. It’s a divine conspiracy. (Btw, I have stopped buying a bucket now, and believe me, now I have a bucket (Sahil’s) almost everyday in my room :P)

Anyway, let me not digress. We fixed our meeting for Tuesday morning and I meticulously worked all through Monday to arrange things for the Tuesday Shower. I messaged her around 10 am to confirm if she was coming (otherwise why waste water?) and took a shower. Now, while I was bathing, Sahil went to the institute without leaving back the keys to his treasure (oil, cream, deo, comb etc etc) and I had to knock every room on the floor to get some hair oil and cold-cream. Still, I made it to Barista in time.It was great to meet her after such a long gap and more so cuz I am going through a rather rough patch these days and it’s nice to have friends by your side. She chose Dark Temptations and whined about all the calories (almost all the girls I know do that…..they always always order high calorie stuff and at the same time complain how they will put up so many calories cuz of it…and would need to burn some on the treadmill after going home…Sometimes it makes me feel guilty that they are eating it cuz I wanted to meet them…..tell ya, girls are pure evil) while I ordered my usual Caramel latte`.

Before I tell you the remaining part of the story, let me clarify some things. I travel mostly by bus and as such don’t carry too much cash in my wallet. I had gone to eat out on Monday and had to shell out ten bucks as nobody else had change (Shit man, why do I always have change), I tried withdrawing cash from 4 ATMs but due to some problem with SBI server, none of them worked.

So, at Barista, unlike CCD you pay first as they have no faith in you( Talking of faith, the other day we ordered a pizza from Dominos and that guy said that the 30 minute delivery scheme (in which you get your pizza free if you don’t get it in 30 mins.) is not valid for IITD. Turns out some students would order a pizza and despite repeated calls from the hostel reception, not go out to pick their pizza. And when the thirty minutes were over, FREE PIZZA! Tell ya, we IITians are pure geniuses. :P). Ofcourse, being all chivalrous and crap, I offered to place the order and pick the tab.

That would be Two Sixty Nine, sir.

Ohk. Do you take SBI Debit Card?

Yes, sure sir.

Here you go.

Oh, sorry sir, it didn’t work. Can you please enter your PIN again.

Yea, sure.

No luck again.

So, I took out my wallet, one hundred, two hundred, fifty, sixty….sixty….sixty… No more cash.

Just a second, let me check again.

I looked back at her and gave a dummy smile. She was busy reading the newspaper. Thank God.

Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three……..I turned my wallet upside down…..yay! another coin….just a onner….sixty-four.

Here you go. These are five bucks short.

What do you mean five bucks short? How dare you even come in and sit in this swanky Barista? This is not a dharamshaala. Get the f*** out of here before I give you a nice spanking. Bloody IITians…

She heard the commotion and walked over to me to see what it was all about. Tears in my eyes, I said, “paanch rupaye hain?” And I was just telling her that I get 8000 bucks as scholarship every month

She tossed a five rupee coin in my face and blasted out of there.

And all I could think was, Huh, faaltu me nahaaya.

Ok, nothing like that happened. The waiter was convinced that it was a genuine mistake.

Never mind sir. We will adjust it next time.

The rest of the afternoon went pretty event-less except me spilling ice-cream all over my sweater thrice. But then somehow I always do that. I finished my coffee and asked if she wanted to have something else. My heart pounded like anything as she reconsidered the menu once again. I was almost on the verge of a heart-attack when she finally said, “No.” I don’t think any guy would ever have been as happy as I was on hearing a No from a girl. Lol.

I know she will read this but I just pray to God that her friends don’t.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————–

In other news, SPIC MACAY’s annual fest Virasat is going on these days. Now, I amn’t much into all that classical stuff but I do enjoy it once in a while. So, last weekend I went for the dance show by performers from the North-eastern states (awesome dancers….simply mesmerizing), followed by the legendary Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia ji on Monday and Ustad Rehmat Ali Khan Langa’s Rajasthani folk music concert last evening. We were seated in the sixth row and two very cute girls were seated next to us. The concert started with an enthralling performance by the group…..the audience clapped….next song….Kesariya Balaam….the audience applauded again…..Ustad ji started……the girls thought it was a cue from them as well…so they too started…talking in the loudest possible manner….clapping each other’s hands….laughing….Now as I appealed last night on FB,

All you beautiful girls out there, yes, we guys hang on every single word you say….but please when we go to a music concert, we would rather like to hear the performers and not your kachar pachar…kachar pachar…..

So, I took out my mobile and opened the message folder. In the ‘To’ field, I wrote The cute but noisy girls seated next to us….and in the text field I added, “Please, can you keep your voice a little down”. I waited for two-three minutes for them to shut up but when they didn’t I showed the message to the one seated right next to me. She read it, immediately hushed up and looked at me. I pretended as if I was too engrossed in the musical brilliance of the Langas. They left the hall after the song ended. Huh! And I was thinking like the movies, she will write a message on her mobile saying Sorry…and then I will say It’s Okay….blah blah blah….meethi takraar ke saath pyaar ki shuruaat……Whatever.

Anyway, Life is like that. One day, you laugh on the world and on the other, the joke is on you. Keep smiling.

Cheers!

Nine Point Someone: What to do at IITD

Disclaimer: Before Chetan Bhagat blames me on his blog, I would like to give due credit to him. The title of this post is a direct rip-off from the name of his bestseller: FPS-What not to do at IITD.

Being a science student, I am naturally a firm non-believer in any kind of superstitions. On the contrary, I take every possible opportunity to mock the irrational customs and beliefs. So, if a black cat crosses my path, rest assured that I will try my best to be the first one to cross the path after her even if I am going for an important exam; and later at night, come back, having had a satisfactory day and laugh at the cat who went foodless all day long (maybe she will learn her lesson and never cross my path again :P). Then there is the age old sneezing superstition: 1 sneeze-bad luck, 2 sneezes-good luck, 3 sneezes-go to the doctor. So, while my credulous little sis used to prick her nose to get the elusive second sneeze, I showed great self-control to stop just after one. However, there are a few superstitions which my insecurities and desire for success have made me a victim of.

1. Never Buy A Book: This is the first golden rule I have learnt during my five years stay at IITD. While a lot of friends attribute it to my parsimonious nature, here is the reason why I absolutely abhor buying textbooks:

  • Semester 1: Bought Engineering Drawing textbook. Got B-, the lowest grade that semester.
  • Semester 2: Bought Goodrich, Tamassia for Data Structures. Failed. Repeated it all over again next semester.
  • Semester 3: AT’s fear made me buy a textbook for DMS. Got C grade, the lowest passing grade in my degree till date.

It’s is generally said that “Books are a man’s best friend” but in my case it goes like, “A man’s friends are his best books”. So, I stopped buying books after these three debacles and rather borrowed them from my friends and always topped. But still, my rational science-oriented mind said that it was stupid logic and I was just trying to find excuses. So, I went ahead and bought not one but thirteen odd books for IAS preparations. This time I didn’t flunk but left the preparations altogether after two months. So, it’s crystal clear now. NO BOOKS FOR ME. Guess am too intelligent to let books meddle with my clear thinking.

2. Bathing: Now, that I am at home, I am tortured in the meanest possible way by making me shower everyday (wlse my mom doesn’t serve me breakfast and I make pretty bad Maggi). In the last two months, they have made me bathe so many times that….umm…how to put it….मेरी skin कई जगह से गल गई है. However, when I was in hostel, bathing was always a weekly ritual. Probably that’s why Sunday is called Sab-Bath in some religions. 😛 But I always made it a point to shower before my exams even if it was scheduled at 8 am on a freezing cold February morning. There were a few times when I gave this rule a miss (only to my own loss) but mostly I believe that having a shower before exams leads to good results.

3. All work and No play makes “Little Johnny” a dull boy: I’ve always believed in this age old adage and always find it to be a great stressbuster. But, it’s a big no-no before a big day. It’s like making a sacrifice to appease the Gods. However, I always promise it longer playing hours once the event is over. 😛

4. She Loves me, She Loves me Not: This is a pretty weird one but what else do you expect from me. So, twitching restlessly in my bed on the eve of some major event (it can be something as important as a debate final or as stupid as meeting a girl for the first time), I do this- Imagine myself winning big laurels the next day or being kissed by the cute girl. 😛 And then to ward off the curse of my own evil-eye, imagine myself making a complete fool of myself in front of everyone, being slapped by the girl and what not. And then comes the argument: Since, I am confident that I will win, Murphy’s Law will make me fall flat on my face. And now that I’ve said so, Murphy’s Law will let me win. But now, it’ll fail me. But now win…lose….win…lose….ad infintum. This goes on till I get irritated with myself and go off to sleep.

This post sounds a lot like a tag and you must be wondering who dared tag me this time round. But the truth is I came up with the idea because of an important cause. There are a lot of coaching centres teaching you how to crack IIT-JEE but there is hardly any literature on how to pass the next four years in IIT. Aamir Khan did tell us how to use our bodily fluids as a weapon against our seniors but what to do about studies???? So, I decided to take the inititative (hope they give me NSS hours for this humanitarian step) to help you cope with the pressure and give you the success mantra to help you write more than 100 papers in 4 years. As you just read, it’s pretty simple. If you want to succeed in IITD, you needn’t study, all you need to do is not to buy any books, stay clean on the night before minors, and in case you are not able to restrain yourself, do take a shower before the exam. And since you neither need to study, nor you can play, spend your time running stupid recursive arguments in your head.

Best of Luck!

yaadein….

शायद भूल जाऊं वो शिव में मेरा पहला दिन
जब आया था मैं यहाँ, किसी भी दोस्त के बिन
कुछ नया सा जहाँ था, कुछ अलग ही समाँ था
कुछ मेरा दिल जवान था, कुछ seniors का दिल शैतान था

पर भूल ना पाउँगा उसके बाद बीता हर एक पल
जो बीता यहाँ यार दोस्तों के संग
शायद भूल जाए तू भी मुझको कल
पर तेरी याद रहेगी हमेशा मेरे संग.

शायद भूल जाऊं वो ragging का डर
आँखें नीची कर seniors को कहना sir
Hostel gate पर वो रोज़ खाना अंडे
पर भूल ना पाऊंगा वो seniors के funde.

शायद भूल जाऊं 75% attendance की fight
शायद भूल जाऊं वो socials की night
ODC पर ढूंढ CS की assignments टेपना
पर भूल ना पाऊंगा night-out मार CS खेलना

P.S. I wrote parts of this poem when I was in first year…and five years later, it still stands true. And btw, as always this poem is not yet complete.

The Elephant Kingdom

So, I have been making a lot of fuss about my Creative writing classes in the last few posts. CREATIVE WRITING…..sounds so sophisticated as if we were doing something very special and exceptional. Well, you decide for yourself.

We were given a small replica of an elephant in the minor exam and were supposed to describe it. I couldn’t find anything striking enough in my elephant except his raised trunk…..so, here it goes

Swinging his trunk
As if drunk
He walks down the road
Bearing a heavy load

He sees a banana tree
And starts on an eating spree
Only to be beaten by his ‘mahaout’
Whom he completely loathe

So, he raises his trunk in anger
Making the mahout fall down
And runs away from him
Causing rampage in the town

A young boy finds him
And pat him with love
Again he raises his trunk
But this time peacefully like a dove.
Lol.

Yeah, the ‘Lol’ formed a part of the answer. Lol.
Though it’s not a great ‘poem’ by any stretch of imagination, but given that I had just over four minutes, I guess I can be excused. Also realized how difficult it can be to write a nursery rhyme….Kudos Charlie(Two and a Half Men).

What d’ya think?