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Lifes at IITMs

Lifes on Weekdays

Holiest of all,the AllahRam calls out from the table beside my bed,giving fierce competition to the heavy metal pouring in from the floor above,both wanting to wake up this tired soul.
i open my eyes,turn around, and beg for mercy from the round-faced guy with 3 untiring hands that go round and round;round and round they go,as if running on a marathon track,except that this marathon never ends..
The race is getting interesting by the second,as this bleary eyed soul sees it,with all of them vying for a single place.It is then that i realise that the clock reads 07:35:37. My legs leap into the air, a leap that would put a frog to shame. The loo is 9 rooms away ; a new world-record is set for the 18.5 metres sprint.The guy with the three hands mocks at me when i return,2 hands pointing to the door, the third at my shoes.It’s 07:45:43.
Before the three runners glimpse the bare-soul, it’s covered with the shirt that was worn last wednesday, and for a change,a fresh trouser. a bag jumps onto the shoulders,shoes slip in and my feet take me to the grand entrance of Mandakini Hostel.
There it is, my Mercedes on two wheels,sparkling in the sunshine,waiting to be revved,it’s pedals wanting to turn dizzy at 18,000 rpm,it wanting me to reach MSB242 on time.
Had it not been the air,rather, the absence of it in those tubes of vulcanized rubber,i might have reached on time.But that,was not to be.
Cursing everything that could have possibly or impossibly done that (even the monkeys,you know they get pretty smart over here), the wind-in-the-hair- feeling-deprived soul reaches Ganga Hostel on foot,the flat Mercedes in hand.Hoping that filling air at some extra pounds/sq inch would work,i go ahead.It Works.Within about 467 seconds after that moment, the soul is busy listening to a MaD course.(pun not intended) Other (dis)courses on Do(o)M and
S(t)adistics follow. Soon, it is lunch time.
This time, the Merc’s ready with the little air it’s got. Maybe it’s the wind filling up the tires or my legs spinning wildly,Cauvery mess is reached in 238 seconds.
The Food’s good.
Sporadically,the multitude of mouths takes a break from gorging on Sambar and Rice and engages in thoughtful discussion. The topics are as varied as the Menu.
DSPs(Digital Signal Processing, for the uninitiated), dosai,Rajnikanth,Delhi Politics,Cars,Einstein,The Matrix,the difference between Milk,Buttermilk and Curd(that’s my favourite,this one ended with the Invention of the Great Milk Cycle in Nature), Balayya,Fourier Transforms,Hrithik n Ash’s smooch,dreams and day-dreams…
Stomach full, the soul rushes through the thicket of intellectuals-on-spokes(that’s what you would say, if you saw the main rd at 08:00hrs) and reaches Class. The High-Tide that is Flood Mechanics sweeps the Mind clean. The only class that manages to hold your attention for more than 1/7th of a second.
But like a seventh of a second,it comes to an end. The Soul is Free from obligations to the Academia. Hurray!
Pedals are not pushed to their load-bearing limits,chains arent churned.’Winds-in-the-faces’ are not felt. The Soul calmly returns to it’s abode and Crashes.Only to wake up at an ‘arbit’ hour and do ‘arbit things’.Well, simply put, ‘arbit’ encompasses several things that i can and cannot write about in this space.
Dinner is a quiet affair at seven pm or so(for most of us). After that,you are totally free to do whatever you want and not be troubled by the three-handed-guy till about 11:40 hrs in the night when the sleepy book-worm within wakes up,gets hold of a book,and…. sleeps on it..
A Bang on the door wakes you up, and the soul discovers that a Brother of his is being Bumped by his Brethren, for it’s his Birthday, and Bumping,their BirthRight.
The soul runs to the quadrangle and presents to his Brother,all the concentrated Energy within, in a single impulsive instant,making the Brother cry out in Pleasure(or is it Pain?) .
The once-again tired soul stumbles to his room,worships his AllahRam,and calls it a day.
The round-faced guy with the Three hands stares at the sight, laughs his laugh, and goes on…


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down the drain..

It hurts..
It hurts the ego..
You spend an entire afternoon working on something and at the end of the day, you lose it all..
Because you did not have the courage to believe in yourself..
Because you thought that you would be wrong and the others would be right.
Because you threw reason and logic in the trash can, fed your common sense to the vultures..
Because you refused to Stand Up..
Because you tied back your own hands and never fought the battle that could have been yours..

It hurts..
But there are lessons to be learnt.. And i think i have learnt yet another one today..

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