Lit-era

Salutations and Greetings!!

2011-01-28T20:28:00.000-08:00

Hi Guys,

Felt really good to see that the blog has been kept alive. Seeing lots of activity and new posts. Keep it up guys. Nice job KP.

Parth

Why Student Library?

2011-01-28T12:42:00.000-08:00

The Literary and Debating Club in association with the Student Council, NITW is taking the initiative to launch Student Library, a library for the students, by the students. :)

Similar efforts in previous years were not successful due to lack of will and insufficient funds. But we are confident we can make a new start. In the recent past, the Student Council has performed well by responding to student issues with respect to facilities in the hostels. It is our hope that we can take it a notch higher by catering to the needs of students by starting reading rooms and library in all the major hostels of our campus.

Similar systems exist in IITs and some of the other NITs. It is our firm belief that for our college to be counted as one of the best in India, it should cater to the all round development of students and encourage reading among students. Even though we have a very well stocked Central Library, students aren't exposed to much besides technical literature.

An alumnus from the 1984 batch lamented that students don't read enough in college. From his own experience he said he wished he had spent more time reading about economics, business and other subjects to prepare him for life beyond college.

Student Library is a step in that direction and much more. Needless to say that any initiative of this magnitude requires the support and cooperation of everybody in college. We appeal to the students to donate and join the library.

Let's make this happen... cheers!

BILLET DOUX

2011-01-26T10:30:00.000-08:00

You came into my life in the most unexpected way,

And left me with no words to say.

Didn’t accept you at the first go,

But then it seemed that our story died long ago.

Then came a period of dormancy,

Wherein, I liked Edward and you Nancy.

Pretence of “moving on” I had started,

With my raving feelings everyday I combated.

Misconceived notions, the emotions; the concoction I prepared,

For a change ,didn’t know for the better or worse, I dared...

Pointless yet binding,

Superfluous yet satisfying,

Denying yet agreeing,

Colliding yet caring,

Striking just to stumble,

Yelling but meaning to mumble..

It was a confusing but trussing time.

Where I saw your other side,

Wondering for how long will I have to abide.

Something happened one day,

For which, the price I still have to pay...;)

You were doing something to me,

A kismet for which I was whimsically eccentric about...

Your coup-de-grace mollified me,

Femme fatale understood her faux pas.

It was time for the gamine to decide,

Leaving all her plans aside.

The new moon brought with it,

My submergence into the waters of love that flowed,

Whirl in the turbulence –yes, that’s exactly what I did.

A slight fear persisted in you,

The next day when you didn’t have a clue,

Of what mind set I would be in,

Trust me, this time to ego I didn’t give in.

Listened to my heart,

This was a fresh start.

With a higher understanding,

The twinges were healing,

O yes! I was feeling..

That this would last

Till the ship sinks until the very mast...

Contributed by
Sejal Chauhan, 3/4 B.Tech ECE

There is hope still

2011-01-10T09:17:00.000-08:00

It's been so long since
I stole you away...
Into a world of quietude,
free from blemishes and insinuation.

A place where bereft hearts unite,
words don't cut like a knife,
eyes aren't red with tears,
no regret,no ill-will,no pretense!

But alas! We recede.
Hide behind veils,silently suffering.
Turning our backs to each other,
Slowly losing faith!

Let us break free,my beloved,
leave the dark days behind
and live the dream we share.
Your haven will be in my arms,
your soft touch...my panacea,
your tender love..my intoxication!

- Contributed by
Amitanshu Mishra
4/4 B.Tech,CSE

Caught between the Moon and New York City

2011-01-10T08:28:00.000-08:00

Its been a while,

I felt the wind yearn for the pollen in the sky,

Im getting the feeling of wood,

And, before I whither, I should.

Where the wasted piss,

where the homeless sleep,

at my feet,

the rent is cheap.

I flaunt no swagger,

Damn! i yield no dagger,

With no eyes,

there is none, i can despise.

Not far way,

Grows the flora,

gentle and slender twigs,

make me fonder,

Branching out hither,

getting closer to touch my leaves,

but the sun grows her away,

Left out in ache and heaves.

- Contributed by Jonathan Furtado

4/4 BTech Chem

Are We Fooling Ourselves?

2010-12-29T23:22:00.000-08:00

Interviews, jobs and paypacks. Terms fed(already) into data crunching minds of wannabe bizz-kids as and when they approach the podium of recruitment. Terms embraced with a force. Going by experience and not speaking from a neutral viewpoint, what matters in riding a healthy cheque chariot is "the prestige". The final appearance. An appearance, deceptive as they come. The becoming of an age you're not, you're NOT. Few is the number who know what they have set out for. Fewer is the number who practice the discipline to follow dreams. For most, the dreams follow them. An antithesis is always a prospective outcome, almost always welcome. I have been in the crowd. Witnessed many a strong one succumb to the magnetic pull of the first moneymaking option that has come their way. Honestly, i don't get it. I don't get the urges for the One Minute of Fame acts i have seen around. Herding. To act with a group in an unplanned way in an unplanned direction. A phenomenon best describing the aberrant thought processes of a student undecided on his academic future. Its not an easy decision when it comes to yourself, yes one has to secure a future. But on what grounds ? What are the yardsticks ? The psychic fails you four out five times each time in matters concerning you. Still, it doesn't empower you with a right to subvert what could be an healthy employment alternative for a colleague with cognition levels below you. Its simple. Don't preach something and practice another. The concept of a relief substitute or backup is weak. A dubious demonstration of self. I believe ones capable of accomplishing something set out for, sooner or later. Rejoice if sooner. Persevere if later.

-Contribution by Manav Gupta

4/4 BTech Biotech.

Word Games Winners

2010-12-26T03:18:00.000-08:00

First - Sudha Yalamanchili, Sadhna Rao

Second - Amitanshu Mishra, Shreyas Dharur, Ashish Mishra

Third - Venkat and Madhu

Cheers!

The Plight of Street Vendors

2010-12-23T21:54:00.000-08:00

Street vendors represent one of the lower strata of the Indian society. Most vendors are people who have left their villages with the hope of eking out a living. More often than not, they are the bread winners and have a great responsibility towards their families. Most hawkers sell goods of everyday use. A large part of the urban population is dependent on the goods sold by them including vegetables. Some hawkers sell home made crafts and can be considered as a part of the small scale industries. Their business involves a lot of creativity as they sell their goods despite all odds. As such, they can be considered as micro entrepreneurs. And even though the elite may consider them as traffic hazards, they are indispensable due to the service they provide to the masses.

Despite the increase in number of retail chains in cities, especially in the last decade or so, street vendors continue to be popular. This is because a common man is willing to trade quality for a more affordable price that the street vendor provides him. Sometimes, customers even complain about how genetically modified vegetables sold in retail outlets look better but are not as healthy as those in their local bazaar. Also as vending is an unorganized trade, haggling is possible. This makes it more attractive for a customer who cringes every time he has to pay more for the same item when he is in a retail outlet. Moreover, street vendors are found everywhere. Usually vendors selling a particular item set up their stalls together and it becomes very convenient for a customer to get the best price. Thus, considering the economic situation of the masses in our country, it is impossible to have a blanket ban on street vending.

For ages, the bazaar has been an integral part of the Indian way of life. Foreign writers have been amazed by the sights and sounds of the bazaar and have penned numerous stories revolving around them. Sometimes even the local hero from the Bollywood blockbusters is a street vendor. The ‘Incredible India’ ads, which have attracted so many foreign tourists, continue to use the bazaar as one of their themes.

Despite the services offered by such a large segment of society to the common man and its integration in popular culture, the plight of the street vendors goes unnoticed. The hawker continues to be harassed at the hands of the corrupt administration. Hawkers lose up to 10-20% percent of their earnings in the form of bribes to policemen. While the civic authorities continue to mint money; neither the problems to society, such as traffic congestion and illegal shanties, nor the problems of hawkers are solved.

This is reported to be continuing even after the ruling of the Supreme Court that “if properly regulated according to the exigency of the circumstances, the small traders on the side walks can considerably add to the comfort and convenience of the general public, by making available ordinary articles of everyday use for a comparatively lesser price. An ordinary person, not very affluent, while hurrying towards his home after a day’s work can pick up these articles without going out of his way to find a regular market. The right to carry on trade or business mentioned in Article 19(1)g of the Constitution, on street pavements, if properly regulated cannot be denied on the ground that the streets are meant exclusively for passing or re-passing and no other use.” Also according to Articles 39 (a) and (b), the government should protect the right of street vendors to earn their livelihood.

Given the current situation, the National Policy on Urban Street Vendors 2009 seems to be a step in the right direction. Also the Street Vendors Bill, which has been sent to States/UTs since, must be implemented immediately. According to the policy, street vending is considered as a legal urban activity and provisions must be made for demarcation of areas where street vendors can conduct their businesses taking all factors into account. Also the policy is forward looking and provides for education and social welfare schemes for the vendors.

National Association of Street Vendors of India (NASVI), which is registered under the Societies Registration Act of 1860, is a body committed to struggle for creating a supportive environment for the street vendors to carry out their legitimate vending. NASVI in unsatisfied by the steps being taken by the government. Instead of amending the policy, which has existed since 2004, NASVI has called for quick implementation of the policy. Unfortunately so far, only 5 states and 15 cities have implemented the policy.

Models, as encompassed under the policy, already exist in certain places in the country. Fashion Street on Mahatma Gandhi Road, Mumbai is an excellent example. Every collegian knows about it. Most people go to Fashion Street at least once, whenever they are in Mumbai. Vendors in Kolkata who serve open-air food have taken lessons in basic hygiene under a pilot project run by the All India Institute of Health And Hygiene. A micro – enterprise undertaken on the beaches of Chennai and in Karnataka to provide solar photovoltaic solar lanterns to street vendors has been very successful. A “Hawkers Common Fund”, from the money earned through the lighting business, has since been constituted to give small loans to the vendors. IMA Bazaar in Imphal is run by women alone who have been given licences by the Municipal Corporation to carry out their trade. More success stories can be scripted if the policy is implemented properly.

It is amply clear that hawkers exist only because the costumers want them to exist. Therefore, it is pertinent for states to make necessary amendments to their municipal corporation/police rules to accommodate such a large segment of society and legalise their trade. So instead of evicting street vendors from their ‘natural markets’ such as railway stations and bus stations, they must be provided with vending zones to carry out their trade. Providing licences to the vendors is the first step in this regard. After their trade has been established as a legal profession, social and economic welfare schemes can be implemented with the help of the state government, NGOs, microfinance institutions and the like. Following such a policy through the length and breadth of the country will have wide implications. Firstly and most importantly, the basic needs of the street vendors will be met. The police, corrupt officials and local gangsters will lose their stranglehold over them and the vendors will not lose substantial parts of their salaries in the form of bribes. With the introduction of microfinance and welfare schemes, these vendors can be uplifted to make their business more economically viable. Also in due course of time, some of them might move on to more profitable professions. Secondly, the consumers i.e. the aam aadmi or the common man will not be inconvenienced and will still have places to get cheap goods of everyday use. Thirdly, the cash – strapped municipal corporations can earn several hundreds of crores annually through levies and fees.

Although different scenarios may exist in each instance where the trade has to be legitimized, broad guidelines which have been formulated under the National Policy on Street Vendors must be implemented immediately.

Musings from the Dreamy World

2010-12-23T21:46:00.000-08:00

1.
There's a chunk of land,
just above the ground.
It's for real;
Don't you believe?
Raise your head and see above;
Can't you see the tinkling bells,
and all the smiling people?
Can't you see yourself among them?
Now,don't you lie.

I can see you are there.
I can see you are not broken anymore.
I see your true smile;
You are beautiful.

Believers believe it's not heaven;
For a simple reason;
They believe,
they can heal themselves.

But,you see,I lied.
That chunk of land,
is just on the ground.
It's for real;
Don't you believe?
Open your eyes and see what's before;
Can't you see the tinkling bells
and all the smiling people?
Can't you see yourself among them?
Now,don't you lie.

2. My love

Now I lie on my leaf,
with grounded feet,
and a wet heart,pounding heavy;
I can't weep though,
for my tears,
volatile in love;
Had nothing else to say.

I used to fly around,
on my leaf.
Over the flowers and around
the twigs,through the sunlight;
And over the graceful peace;
Unhindered and virgin.

Until I saw my love;
Whom I cared the most.
I knew not that I was in love
until I saw her smile
the most perfect thing
that seemed
but now shall never be.

And now I can't fly;
For my heart aches,
lives and dies.
I can't forgive
nor can I regret
what I saw;
My thoughts empty,
efforts futile,
dreams melancholic;
I remain on my leaf,
with grounded feet,
and a wet heart,pounding heavy;
I can't weep though,
for my tears,
volatile in love;
Had nothing else to say.

- Contributed by Sreekanth Pathy
4/4 BTech ECE

Winners of Mockpress and Lantern

2010-12-22T21:24:00.001-08:00

Mockpress

First - Rohit Ashok
Second - Rizvin Baker
Third - Rohita

Lantern

First - Atmadeep, Rohit, Avinash
Second - Sneha, Chaitanya, Harsha
Third - Osman, Akash, Bhavana

Cheers!

Raindrops

2010-12-20T23:13:00.000-08:00

Raindrops, the splattering of raindrops
An assurance that I wasn’t trudging alone in the dark street...
They spoke in dulcet tunes, of a girl I knew,
Her absence had made my world barren and desolate.
Eyes grew moist for I happened to see...
Her precious face in a puddle before me,
But alas! Tricksters they were...
They distorted the reflection, they stole it from me,
Robbers they were!!
Raindrops, the dripping of raindrops
From the leaves...reminded me of the rainy day
When I met her on the road,
A timid figure on the street, shaking with cold
As I drove her to shelter, she squeezed and whispered
In a voice so fidgety, three words so pure,
I caressed her hand in affirmation and sealed it with a kiss.
We rode off undaunted and made promises to meet
Despite the long nights that lay ahead.
The image grew blurry and finally disappeared,
My heart pounded with glee as I made my way home.
I was dancing with the raindrops...

- Amitanshu Mishra
Additional Secretary - LND

The Road To Take Or Not To ???

2009-08-29T23:24:00.000-07:00

People often wonder where their life is headed… I happened to ponder on these lines once, Here’s what came to my mind.

View :

Wise Men before us have said, “The Path You Choose to Take, Makes You What You Are.” There are a few of us who live a life of meritorious academics, towering grade points and are adored students in the faculty circles. They invite the envy of a lot of peers who want to be like them. They have, what most of the others crave for. However one day one such topper tells me “I wish I had a life like you, full of freedom and expression, I chose to leave all this when I sought academic excellence.” I told him, The path he chose made him, what he was now.

Counter View:

Recently, I happened to see a movie, which challenges the above general convention and remarks “The path you choose to leave makes you what you are.” On the surface, one doesn’t find much difference between the two lines but look beyond and you will spot subtleties hidden. I try to explain the difference through another incident. A friend of mine who himself admits that he lives a wasted life, told me “Dude, I did not choose this kind of life for me, all I knew was what I didn’t want. After three years of toil, I didn’t want any more academic pressure, no more exam deadlines and forced midnight sittings”. The path he wanted to leave had made him what he had become now.

My Dilemma:

I talked to myself; There are two kinds of people in college. Ones who think ahead and work for it and there are others who know what they don’t want from their experiences and stay away from it. I asked myself, so in which group do I belong? Do I know what I want from life? I had ambiguous answers like I want to be successful, well known, rich etc. Then I thought about what I didn’t want. The answers this time were a struggling future, harmful addictions etc. I neither exactly knew what I wanted, nor I knew what I did not want. In simple words, I was confused.

The Way Out:

There was a Almighty King. He gave everyone in his kingdom a chance to explore beyond his kingdom by sharing his riches with all. An opportunity to discover and embark on a journey where one could choose his own direction. The opportunity came with one rider though. The king could call anyone back any time and they would have to return immediately to the comforts of his kingdom. There was no particular destination for all of them. All they knew was that they were free to take the journey wherever their heart wanted to go.
Some thought about where they wanted to go and tried to go there climbing mountains, braving deserts, crossing rivers searching for the place they wanted most but they forever thought there would be a place better than this somewhere else and they planned further and travelled further.
Some knew where they didn’t want to go, and ran away from such places as soon as they thought they were nearing it. They were happy living everywhere else.
And there were the third kind, who didn’t know much about the world. They just travelled every day, wide and far, stopping everyday for a break, drinking the surroundings, enjoying the trek, resolving stupid mysteries and allowing themselves a deep breath of happiness whenever they saw a beautiful place making them feel happy. For they believed the King wanted them to live the journey and find the destination for themselves, rather than pick a destination and live the journey finding it.

The Realisation :

Whenever I am confused about the road I have to take, I neither choose a road advised, nor take a road not maligned. I make a road of my own and feel good about it for I’m the one who is doing it. It might lead to nowhere, but it still would be a place where nobody has gone before.

Aeshverya Jain,
3rd Yr

Rain Drop

2008-10-25T21:17:00.000-07:00

Twinkling as a star, on concrete.

Every drop, distinct, discrete.

As it falls, so it breaks

Into several droplet-mates.

Parting with its friends,

Ripples across, it sends.

That converge and diverge,

Humming a love song or a dirge.

Relieves the scorched ground;

Joins the river, ocean-bound.

The sweet aroma of wet soil;

The cool breeze, a pay for toil.

That little drop, in us inspires,

To spread joy, every soul requires,

To adapt, to be loved, to mingle,

To dance to the tune of life’s jingle.

- An original contribution by
Elika Garg
I year B.Tech
Biotechnology

Blast you morons!

2008-09-13T21:04:00.000-07:00

I get up today morning at ten thirty, (don’t judge me…was up last night with some important work….anyways, this isn’t about me!) and I see the headlines plastered across the newspaper, “29 DIE AS 17 BLASTS RIP THROUGH AHMEDABAD”. Bloody 17 blasts!!!! That’s the most no. of blasts I have ever heard of in a terrorist attack on my country since I was born. Cumulatively!! I try to get up off the bed but there’s still only two words resounding in my head, “Seventeen Blasts!!!” .Walk toward the bathroom to brush my teeth, and they’re still there, “Seventeen Blasts!!!” .Walking back to the room, “Seventeen Blasts!!!”. I decide to go to my friend’s room to vent my frustration. He opens his door and I blurt out, “SEVENTEEN BLASTS!!!” His reply, “Fifteen blasts”. I give him a puzzling look that even the Joker from the earlier Batman movies would kill to have on his own face to go with his diabolical schemes. But that’s what he chose to refute with me about - the number of blasts reported by his newspaper vs. mine. Does nobody else see the sheer ludicrous insanity of the actions of these so called terrorist organizations? Okay!! So we’ll take the magic number as fifteen for future references in this rambling monologue of mine. But is fifteen any better? There shouldn’t even be one blast to read of in the newspapers. And here I am being greeted on consecutive days with news of how the security apparatus of our…no wait…my country is just a complete mockery of the meaning of the word “secure”. Do I feel secure? Hell no!! Not about my life, not about my family’s life which by the way lives in Ahmedabad. But that’s beside the point. I don’t feel terrorized by this news, may be for the sheer reason that if I do, I’m letting these sadist Tiffin bombers actually succeed in their intensions. But what I can’t believe or rather understand is that why do we keep letting this happen. Can I never walk in piece on the roads without the gushing urge to call the bomb squad every time I see a deserted cycle parked in a civilized street? Shouldn’t I not have to stop reading the newspapers daily just because they give me the most repetitive feeling of déjà vu? Shouldn’t there be an actual organization that tries and prevent these incidents from repeating over and over again? OH yeah!! There is such an organization, the POLICE. Right…Well we all know how great they are. A murderer kills two may be three people? A robber may kill somebody while making his escape. But freaking 29 people killed by an organization that used the email to claim responsibility. And there’s no way to figure out actually whodunit. Even if they come knocking to our doors once every month with the most stony calling card of death, we don’t consider them worth spending our time and effort on.

To think such incidents happened right after the government’s “victory” on the nuke deal is really laudable. And I’m not even being sarcastic. We can see how involved the country’s governors are in a deal with the country that perhaps is the most used example of global hegemony ever. Sure, our internal safety measures might be as obscure as the Indian Postal Service, but let’s keep up the image of being en route to being the next global power and turn a blind eye to our “little” problems within. They’re ‘internal’ right? We can solve them anytime. All right, guess the sarcasm kind of leaked out in spite of my best attempts. But before I wrap up this dialogue, I would really like to know what can we do individually to prevent this. Every time the tabloids finish by pleading everyone to be more vigil and keep their eyes and ears peeled to notice any inconsistency. It doesn’t work that way people. One person’s imagination may get him labeled as being paranoid and frowned upon. Think what would happen with everyone’s paranoia let loose on the streets. Utter chaos perhaps? But let’s not forget that it is each individual’s duty to keep a watch out but there’s a limit to our reach, and then helplessness prevails simply because of the sheer enormity of “the unknown”. AAMIR anyone?

Trip down the memory lane- Lantern 2007

2008-04-11T00:49:00.000-07:00

Our beloved staff advisor, Dr. D. Kesava Rao

A lighter moment

The first year crowd @ Lantern 07

Frantic correction of the prelim papers

Winners of Lantern 2007

Runners up

Second runners up

The Executive members of second year- the event conductors of Lantern, with our staff advisor

Dr. D. Kesava Rao flanked by the Additional Secretaries of LnD, Anand Rajagopalan and Nitin Lakhotia (left to right) and Secretary, Tony Sebastian (extreme right)

Do men need to be chivalrous.??

2008-01-07T07:34:00.000-08:00

Don't you think that the world can do without chivalry in the 21st century.? I mean its been decades that women have been talking about equality and doing great things in all walks of life. Last I heard, equality was a thing of the past and i think i overheard this, "women who aspire to be be equal to men just aren't ambitious enough." or something to that effect. So now that female equality has clearly been established, I'm made to wonder why they should expect chivalry. After all, isn't asking and hoping for chivalry from men tantamount to saying,"I could need some help here." You know even that's fine with me-some work just cant be done alone-but in that case why is help solicited only from men and not from women. If women can do everything men can,then why cant they be chivalrous ??

Lets go back in time and see why chivalry was required. Mankind lived in caves, man was the provider,women stayed back in the caves-cooking and taking care of the kids.If the cave-woman needed a large boulder to be broken or moved or a bear to be killed then she'd need the cave-man. That's it-that's where chivalry came from.Right.?? Now we can fast forward to the 19th century. Men were becoming doctors and discovering things and studying while most women stayed indoors n brought up the kids. Women wore dresses and obviously had mobility issues. So when they wanted to mount a horse or get onto the carriage or even walk a bumpy road,a little help could be used-enter the chivalrous 19th century man.

But why all this now.? The fairer sex don't need men by their side anymore-not for support at least. To get answers I asked a friend of mine who was sad that it was getting more and more difficult to find chivalrous men.Apparently, its nice if men are there to keep open the door when they want to enter (say a car) and to offer to hold their hand when they are walking on a bumpy road.! Whoa...!! I am reminded of Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman. He's blind and is so accompanied by this young man.The fellow holds Pacino's hand when he's about to start walking.Pacino curtly yet strongly says,"Are you blind ?...Then why are you holding my hand ?" See the analogy girls.? So don't really hope for chivalry-detest it...unless of course you're afraid opening the car door will chip your nail polish.

The world doesn't really need a man who's nice to a woman because she's a woman-that's not chivalry-that's lame. We need people(both men and women) who are nice to other people(both men and women) because thats who they are, that's what they do.

A day in the life of the holidaying NITWian

2007-12-13T02:38:00.000-08:00

5:20 fight for your right to sleep five more minutes. Plead, push, pummel finally give up the matador bull named mom. [oops I meant matador cow :D]

6:20 get caught red handed for sleeping over the morning paper. Get sent to the kitchen by Hitler to help the matador cow out. Help, learn your basic lessons in kitchen simply because “you have grown as big as a guy-buffalo”. [Courtesy: Amminniamma, my sweet maid servant. You have to translate the phrase into malli to appreciate it]

7:20 help your sister with her homework. Fully utilize the chance. Give her a long lecture on why it is important to be regular, else you end up like the author.

8:20 wave your parents goodbye as they leave for work. Do a jig. Celebrate your hard earned freedom by hitting the couch.

9:20 relish your moments of blissful sleep

10:20 wake up with a jolt as the phone rings. Answer the matador cow’s “you weren’t sleeping right?” with an emphatic no.

10:25 try every other number you know. Only to hear

1) “the Vodafone customer you are trying to reach is switched off”

2) “hey da, sorry me in class. Might get caught any moment. Ttyl ok”

3) “ya will catch up with sometime. Did you say you are leaving on 20^th. Damn it man!! I got university exams till 21^st.”

4) “Internal exams da. I am already on the verge of flunking. Hey btw me free on any day after 22^nd. We will have a blast then. What you leaving on 20^th. No Xmas hols?? How dumb.”

11:00 curse the dude from surathkal.

11:05 switch on the tv. Realize that you have no idea who is having an extra marital affair with whom in the saas bahu serials; That the mallu family tear jerkers are exactly at the same place where you left them 3 months ago; That you have seen every other movie, thanks to the LAN; that you are above the Indian television and settle for India- Pakistan test series.

12:00 curse the dude from surathkal

12:20 walk into the kitchen. Get the strong feeling that okra fry and fish moily is too boring. Go online. Download “The Mexican cook book”. Scan the recipe. Find alternatives for every other ingredient coz u can’t find them in the kitchen.

13:00 hear the door bell ring. Answer Rasheeda aunty’s “is everything ok mole? I could smell something burn” with a sheepish grin.

13:20 thank your stars that the fire engine didn’t turn up. fish moily and okra fry does taste heaven.

13:25 sit down with the Hindu Crossword, Roget’s thesaurus and the oxford dictionary. Stare for one hour. Get two clues right, lucky if you are

14:20 go down on your knees. Pray to a certain wizard of words famous for his glutTony.

14:25 realize crossies aren’t for engineers with pea sized brains.

14:30 shift your focus to the last page of the paper. Try the sudoko. Waste an hour. Get enlightened to the fact that it is too hard. Curse your pea sized brain. Oops no curse the dude from surathkal

14:45 go online. Find similar holidaying NITWians (HN)

Excerpts from a conversation

“Me: hey

HN1: howdy?

Me: bored ra to death

HN1: same here. Every friend of mine has exams now

Me: same pinch

HN1 : ouch that hurt

Me: :)”

“HN2: hey

Me : hows u?

HN2: bored to death man

Me : same here. Every single friend of mine has exams now

HN2: same fate here

Me: kill the guy from surathkal”

15:20 invite every other holidaying nitwian you know to a group chat. Swear at gtalk for not doing the job well. Shift to YM. Listen to your friend say he doesn’t have YM installed Shift back to gtalk. Play the fool around. Conspire to murder the dude from surathkal.

16:20 do some orkutting. Classify people on your friends list into buggers, big buggers, and bigger buggers. Write dumb testimonials for dumb friends ;). Go be a fan of some arbit guy.

17:20 welcome the matador cow back home

The author wishes to terminate the article right now. She is simply too bored to continue any more. Happy holidaying!!! And ya to hell with the dude from surathkal

Classification of species@NITW

2007-11-23T10:30:00.001-08:00

STATUTORY DECLARATION: The characters mentioned in the article are purely x+iy, (x=0). Any resemblance to anyone living or dead or half-alive is purely coincidental and unintentional. So please don't impose any mental or physical strain on the author for any such coincidence.

The author found several classes of living creatures from all over the country in the college and made an effort to classify them as follows:

Fairer sex
Non-fairer sex

Further classification among the Fairer sex:

Rules Ramanujam

The bookworms of the college saving the library from being filled with Spiders. Wanna see them, then attend the classes regularly. Guys with 100% attendance and 200% innocence. They are seen in the first three rows of the classroom and never stop firing questions at the professor. They are always active and even more active at the time of results. God knows what magic a teacher has!! No one cares the teacher for 3 whole months and when it comes to finalisation of grades everyone starts acting too smart. (The author is proud of not asking marks in any subject till know. You know why? If the teacher asks a question relating to the topic, the author can't answer it :P ) Well, anyway may god bless these 'holy souls'.

The Nitwit

These guys make the bread and butter of the college. They act accordingly; participate in all sports, extra and co-curricular activities, enjoy nights in the dhabas. They represent the college in Tech-fests and make the college feel proud of them. And they never let their grades go down and will obviously get selected in a good company. Our college name is honoured only due to the presence of such guys.

The Fundoo

The author wonders what supernatural powers they have. They are known for bunking the classes and studying in the hostel rooms. They smile when Rules Ramanujam asks a question in the classJ. The class heads to this guy's room to know the syllabus or to clarify any doubt.

The Romeo

If you want to see him just come to the LH as soon as it gets dark. You can see them enjoy their conversation with the non-fairer sex. God only knows what they have so much to talk about.

The Sonic-maniac

These are a species unique to the boys hostel (The author doesn't know if there are any such in the LH too). They have 1400 Watt sound systems in their rooms and they never turnoff their computers and have pendrives and harddisks as means of transport.(Of course, the LAN never doesn't work anywhere other than the LH and the 14^th block). The author is sure that they will not go to heaven due to the curse of their roommates and the neighbours.

The Deski

Typical species seen around the campus and mysteriously vanishes as the sun goes down. They are famous for their bike shows on the college roads. Of course, they miss the ecstatic experiences of hostel life, but then, they do not have to undergo the ordeal of digesting mess food!

The Bodybuilder

These are the guys with muscles of steel. Go to the gym and you will find them trying to lift everything they can and doing exercises on parallel bars with some unknown vengeance. They really are the assets of the college.

The Playboy

'Definition'- Any guy with some music gadget in his ears is a playboy.

Imported materials. They read novels in the classrooms and have a lot of enthu in participating in literary events and quizzes. Win or lose they make a big name of it. They are the brand ambassadors of several brands (like Adidas, Reebok, Levis..) in the college. Their staple diet includes a 100ml Frappie in the Nescafe. They are half philosophers, half critics, half social and half fundoo.

The Sloth

The drowsiest, sleepiest souls on earth. They don't give a damn about the attendance and flout the rules upto the maximum. They are either found in the room sleeping or roaming on bikes or partying in the dhabas, but certainly not in the class.

Now, enough classification of the fairer sex. Let's get to the most awaited section of the article.

Classification of the non-fairer sex:

Miss Nitwit

They form the typical female population in the college. They form the counterparts of Mr. Nitwits. They are very friendly with a smile pasted on their face. It is a joy to see them.

Miss Bookworm

Study, study, study, study, study........ Their world is full of study. I wonder if they ever enjoyed their life. Open your eyes. The world is waiting for you.

Miss LH

Angels of beauty. Extinct species of the college. To the maximum possible extent they don't exist. If, by mistake, there are any, they feel like the Miss World competition doesn't suit their level and of course possess a never ending list of fans adoring their beauty.

Miss Deski

They form the counterparts of the Mr.Deski species. Famous for their regularity in attending classes and submission of assignments(They form into the other categories of classification too, but the author, being a Mr.Deski likes to honour them by such special classification :P)

Miss Dressed to Kill

They form about 2% of the female population of the college. Their attire makes you blind for a while. From where they buy these apparels the author would like to know.

Well, here ends my work of classifying the species. Any suggestions focussing the uncovered sections are always welcome. Enlightenment would be much appreciated J

O! SO horrible!

2007-11-11T17:54:00.000-08:00

Facts you should know :

1 This is not a movie review – it is just an honest opinion about *surprise surprise* yet another sucky Hindi movie.

2 I didn’t know Farah Khan was a female till yesterday.

3 I never wanted to do this but dumb idiots like Priya (or more aptly a numbskull) pushed me into it!

4 Criticism is welcome but it’ll just be directed to my trash bin.

5 To quote a Reebok Tee “ I don’t have an attitude problem - I have the attitude, you have the problem”

6 I won’t give you a spoiler alert because frankly I can’t make it any worse for you.

I woke up. I was brushing my teeth. Jebby said “you coming for OSO?” I blinked. “Om Shanti Om, we’re all going”. I nod. 3 hours later everyone agrees the movie is pathetic.

With all the hype that surrounded OSO (which you’ve to say is the dumbest acronym ever for a movie title!) I guess I should be forgiven for expecting something remotely watch-able.

Ok I’m not going to prejudice your decision in anyway except tell you what the movie is about. Please read this with an open mind and make your own informed opinion about this sad, pathetic, mind numbingly stupid movie!

Here’s the deal - some dumbass in the 70s is a wannabe star or junior artist to be more precise, and his name? Yes you guessed it smartass! OM. Ok now for the heroine – a mega star in the 70s who our hero is in love with - yeah you’re right again Shanti! And their kid who completes the movie – Om you think? Well no way Jose! We ain’t gonna make this movie so damn logical!

Instead OSO makes spoofs of some more dumbass hindi movies – spoofs which could have been done much better by Parth et al. Sample this for the spoofy names the O! SO brilliant makers came up with - "Dhoom5" *scratches head*, "Phir bhi dil hai NRI" *contemplates standing on the head and yelling wooga wooga*, "Return of the khiladi" *wants to scream but can’t find the voice*, and "Main bhi hoon naa" (I swear my lap top crashed at this point due to over-exposure of unfunniness). Now compare this to Pedro’s “Eternal moonshine of a spotless behind” and judge how pathetically amateurish OSO is.

Oh and what happens in the rest of the movie you ask? Some more dumbasses get together and sing “all hot girls put your hands up and say OSO! All cool boys come on make some noise and say OSO!” Could it be any lamer? And the best dialogue in the movie is an internet rip-off! (for people who think I’m making this up please read the last line of this blog )

Om and Shanti die or rather are killed by the villain. Om reincarnates as a great star and suddenly an apple falls on his head and he remembers everything about his past. He finds a Shanti look-alike and nearly scares the crap out of our villain. But he is smart enough to know the look alike is not a ghost so he says BOO and is about to get away. But then the real ghost of Shanti appears and kills him!

What a great way to get revenge! Wait for 30 years till shah rukh khan grows up again, and a look alike sprouts up from nowhere. And then kill the villain who ( now in his sixties) in the mean time went to Hollywood became a limousine riding, high flying American badass and lived his life to the fullest! Too damn brilliant! Here’s an advice to the cops - don’t bother searching for murderers they’ll eventually die of old age!.

Oh and in between somewhere Shah Rukh has a word for his fans’ criticism for this post “shove it up your nose, shove it up your nose!”

A Very Wild Day

2007-10-10T06:45:00.001-07:00

It is a not-exactly-unpopular fact how teeming with anthropoda and reptilia our very green, very nature-loving campus is.

As though I need more reminding of that fact, the events that followed on a certain seemingly-innocent day lead me to more close encounters with the wild kind than even as ecologically-inclined a person like me would've liked to experience. On the wee hours of the morning, my deep, scarily-comatose-like (for my roommates that is) and peaceful sleep was disturbed very much violently with screams emanating from my resident wing. As I grudgingly gave up to the inevitable and somnambulated to the source of the acoustic disturbance, I entered the left wing bathroom on auto pilot.

And found myself face to face with a ten foot long cobra.

Coiled in the bathroom.

Needless to say even the minutest traces of sleep vanished within two shakes.

As I stood there shock still, with my legs stuck to the bathroom floor with some mysteriously invisible but extremely strong cement (whose properties on discovery is sure to benefit the entire civil engineering community) with my confused brain still taking its time to warm up, the reptilian calmly and steadily slithered one inch past my still-very-much-stuck-to-the-tiles foot in nonchalant disregard.

As I ambled back to my room, my heart still beating off my chest I realized the entire left wing was empty and something along the veins of "snake, snake!" were emanating from the central block. Trying to salvage what was left of my cardiac muscles, and to soothe my ear drums which were still being blown to smithereens from the loud tattoo of a heart that refused to calm down, I hurriedly ran to my room, leaving the snake to enjoy its lavatory visit, locked the door and lay down on my bed staring at the ceiling.

Only to have a lizard the size of a baby Gila monster fall flat on my stomach.

Only to have me wiggle and perform more oscillations of all the limbs I possessed faster than a 50,000 rpm centrifugal machine.

Only for the lizard and myself to get tangled in the mess that was my bed sheet, my pillow cover, papers, books, a dupatta, a pair of jeans, a laptop and all its wires and a veena that were inevitably a part of my bed.

Only to find myself at last, on the floor face to face with the lizard, nay the Gila monster on the bed, looking at me with unmistakable venom on its face.

Only for me to finally realize why.

The tail of the reptilian, which looked more like a severed tree branch was wiggling away on my lap.

Fighting rising bile, I ran out of the room and into the central block.

Where of course, a giant cricket was just eagerly awaiting my appearance.

Now when I say giant, I mean flared-nostrils-of-an-angry-gorilla giant. At the risk of sounding extremely melodramatic, the cricket (and I lie not) decided that my head was to be its landing area. Now anyone who has seen what I look like the first thing in the morning would understand why this was such a bad thing. I'm the sort of a person who has a bad hair day, every single day without fail. Literally that is. Ten hours of sleep had nicely left me with the wildest and most bush-like of all my waking-up-moment hairs yet and the cricket I must say, had a very bad timing.

As it fluttered around helplessly in the quagmire that was my hair, my vocal chords came to a life of their own and started emanating extremely cacophonic bellows which managed to serve as the industrial wake-up siren of the city for the day. My brain which was by now very much overheated, gyrated enough result in severe deficiency of my neck-turning capabilities for the next few days.

It is not known if the cricket had survived its encounter with the wild-bush that is my hair, but since I could find no spare cricket parts on my person, I would like to think it sure did.

My troubles, of course were far from over. Deciding to write off the morning's incidents as a freak of nature, I proceeded to dress up to get ready for class.

It was after sometime that I felt the burning pain shoot down my spine. Any thoughts of "maybe I'm imagining it" flew right out the window the moment the second shot of pain shot through my nerves. Clawing my back, I run to the room to rip off my top to find red welts on my side and back. Very calmly a wasp flies out of the discarded kurti.

Feeling a definite sense of surrealism and brimming with nagging warnings of bad omens, I don another top (after though checking) and proceeded to class.

Scarcely had I sunk into a lull of false security when the bee came in. It was not as though I was wearing anything which looked or smelt anything remotely floral. But the bee just wouldn't leave me alone. Hysterical laughter bubbled out of my throat, promptly making the prof think that I was laughing at him, and naturally leading to my being kicked out of class.

Next came the survey lab period. I don't think I need to elaborate on what happened when I most-innocently stuck a ranging rod right into the heart of an ant hill. That too the Warangal-special-black-with-a-horrendously-painful-bite-ant’s hill. With red welts on my feet to match the ones on my back, I ambled back to the hostel of a decidedly draining day with thoughts of taking solace in the banana chips exported all the way from Kerala at the insistence of my dad.

Of course, this time, I was well prepared for the sight of around fifteen tiny rat babies in the bag from which the chips had long since disappeared.

Not.

They say nature has a funny way of breaking what does not bend. Considering the amount of bodily exercise that involved bending that day, I still do feel pretty much broken.

And it is most certainly NOT funny.

On Sunday our religion is chicken

2007-10-09T12:22:00.000-07:00

I wasn’t a practicing non-vegetarian till I came to NITW. Our institute has its own way of ragging the students-make them eat in a vegetarian mess for one full year and who’s to complain..? Students, for most part of their first year are regarded as 0/4s (not officially..!!) and no one is interested in empathizing with their woes (unless of course they utter the word ‘ragging’). Ragging (CODE RED) is the single most important issue to our beloved and sincere, student-loving faculty and administration. Sick food, sad infrastructure, primordial facilities and an abysmal lack of something called a life for students don’t quite make the cut. So I joined the best non-vegetarian mess in NITW-Cauveri mess a.k.a. 3rd mess when I moved to 2nd year. What follows is my tribute to the weekly mega-event of the 3rd mess-a student activity which has never seen an off-day or a low turn-out. I’m talking about fried chicken on Sunday.

0900 hrs : Sunday mornings are lazy mornings. While the majority of the campus is busy counting sheep crossing fences, a group of highly dedicated individuals are preparing to embark on a mission-the size of each team varies (generally one or two). There’s no saying what fate has in store for them-a minute here and there can make the difference. The choice of weapons vary from operative to operative-how they decide to use them are also varied. Newspapers, kerchiefs or a heavy bunch of keys-some brave souls manage without any weapons at all..!! (the author, a veteran of more than 50 successful missions, suggests operatives carry some form of entertainment-a book, an MP3 player or the current newspaper.) Once the positions are taken a long wait ensues so be prepared.

1000 hrs : Human activity is on a steady rise and extreme caution is to be taken-one blink of the eye and all is lost-the first signs of trouble start brewing as failed operatives try to plunder positions claimed but untended (he knows pretty well that the usurped operative and his back-up team will not be happy and may resort to, first a war of words n expletives, and when all fails hands may start flying. He hopes that they surrender meekly. ) Eyes wander longingly towards the place called kitchen, moving to cell-phones and the wall-clock. Concentrations wane. Any and every noise evinces suspicion and side-way glances. More than half of the battle-field is occupied. Messages, missed calls start coming in, reminding successful operatives of debt of honors and U-O-MEs. (somewhere around then the author receives a short message.”da,keep a seat for me” – SSKs in the church but his stomach reminds him to send this message-what dedication..!! )

1100 hrs : Back up teams start moving in to occupy positions held bravely by their team-mates. Negotiations are on and pacts are getting finalized at different places. The impatience grows, so does the noise. Saarus are slowly coming in – hope rises. Reserved signs on untended positions are removed en bloc and someone immediately occupies it. A late comer takes a peak, hoping against hope that one position is left by error of omission. No hard feelings dude but next round, Loser. Now negotiations start for accession rights – keys are slipped in onto occupied chairs.

1140 hrs : Hustle-bustle, small altercations break out here and there – nothing is paid attention to unless someone is shoved or manhandled. Tongues are wagging as the chicken rolls in. In honor of the chickens who lost their lives a minute of silence is observed. The chicken, served on side plates (chinnas), stacked on a large tray, are brought to the tables where the victorious feast. Activities which follow include stretching the neck muscle to get a good view of the chicken remains,sitting and standing at ones place, haggling with the saaru over a piece, playing snatch-snatch and sometimes eyeing someone else's piece of meat with jealousy or holding of one's head high in pride. Once the ruckus in the form of the tray of chicken passes,things settle down. This peace is momentary and fleeting - extras roll in for one and all. Soon all is devoured as these warriors leave with nothing but bones n chicken skin left on their plates.

1215 hrs : The next batch of people are ready to take positions as the first batch of satiated and sleepy individuals slowly move towards their rooms to sleep.What happens next is not of interest and the author can proudly say that he's never had to stay in the mess past this time on Sundays.Hence, he cannot say what goes on..obviously, everything exciting and of interest is already over.

A Forward Minded Generation?

2007-09-21T16:14:00.000-07:00

Have you ever received absolutely irritating and irrelevant forwards that bug you beyond death and make you feel like all the intelligent life in the universe has just migrated to mars? Oh wait aren’t you the moron who sent me the forward in the first place?

Well you know what I am talking about, those ridiculous forwards generated by totally jobless pranksters who just want to have a laugh, which are forwarded by dense morons who skipped the brain servings in heaven because the queue was too long before they set their dumbasses on the planet.

The kinds that go like :

My grandma in Somalia hasn’t eaten in three days because Somalia has no supply of food grains. Kindly forward this message to everyone you know so that she can eat the enormous amount of pointless data that will get circulated.

Or the ones that say

Forward this message to 12 people at 12 in the night and 12 beautiful girls will tell you how good you look.

(C’mon you can’t blame me for forwarding that one ;) the closest I’ve gotten is “Its good to look ugly da” and a comparison of my appearance to some ridiculous looking tree, near the CSE department, by two members of the fairer sex. Well the forwarding really worked. Next day, a dozen female pigs chased me from the 14th block till we parted ways half the way to the mess!)

Anyway you get the drift. The last straw was when I got the “get Kalam back” forward. Incessant forwarding of the same mail by a million people drove me up the wall to say the least. The essence of the mail was that since Kalam was a very great president, it was our duty to get him back to office by submitting a petition on Lolappan Chettan’s website designed by his son Mandan Kunju who had just learned HTML! This would cause the scales to fall from the eyes of all the politicians in India and Kalam would be gloriously reinstated!

I was happily rotting away in my room today, as jobless as Stuart Broad after bowling to Yuvraj (that is to say I was merely staring at the sky and hoping that an alien space ship would appear from somewhere and brighten up the day). Pretty much laidback you could say and no pun intended either! Sigh!

So well my phone beeps and I see a dumb message which goes on to say if I forward it to 10 other Vodafone users, I would get 75 mins absolutely free! Not surprising that this message was forwarded to me by the same numbskull-fairer-sex-ians who called me ugly and compared me to a tree (as if we didn’t know they were dumb enough already!).

Bored beyond irritation, I set about to test if the rest of the world was dumb enough. Immediately I made up a message (which many of you imbecilic jackasses forwarded with great fervour may I add?) which reads as follows

Today, 21st September, is the Vodafone (formerly hutch) pug’s birthday. On this joyous occasion, we would like to reward our esteemed customers. Night calls between 10 pm and 6 am will be made free for everyone who forwards this message to 10 other Vodafone users today. You will have this offer till September 29th, which is when the pug was baptized.

(If in spite of the capitalization, making bold and italic of some letters a bell dosen't ring in the peanut you pass off for a brain, it stands for the name of the author of the message - TONY (sebastian).)

Well it apparently wasn’t a very smart thing to do as my phone keeps beeping twice a minute with the same dumb message and its nearly four in the morning and I honestly can't sleep!

so here I am begging you

PLEASE STOP FORWARDING DUMB MESSAGES YOU MORON!

A coupla redefinitions

2007-09-14T06:37:00.000-07:00

'Yo'

A derogatory term coined by self righteous innocent onlookers for people who are supposedly wannabe lit and quizzing gods, who talk English in the last place you'd expect them to, an REC, and snub you because you can't, for all the money in the world, make an intellectual conversation. The 'yo' folks would, ideally speaking, prefer going to Saarang or Mood I where they can flaunt it all, than go to Goa in the summer, enjoy the cool breeze and doze off with a drink of fenny.

Pretenders to the 'Yo' throne include

People who play loud music in their rooms, swear by Pink Floyd ( even though they still think he is some one like Elton John, when surprise surprise, 'he' happens to be a band ), or worse still they 'headbang' at the slightest sound of a Macarena like rhythm, because these days, who doesn't ?

Couples, more often than not, Yo rejects, frivolous with PDAs, but make such a huge fuss out of it when they do eventually get caught in the act

Wearing a football jersey of the biggest club in the world ( Man Utd ) isn't going to ensure that you get away with it. A slightly off beat club's jersey ought to do the trick though. ( Valencia sounds just right !! )

South Park Republicans

Buya started watching South Park this summer. A couple of hours seeing Eric Cartman trash talk his way through some seemingly harmless vocabulary, meant that Buya could not help but be inspired. Its no surprise therefore, therefore that South Park Republicans are quite the rage in the west. But what baffles me is the speed at which they seem to be catching up here, ( you heard it first here ) , in Warangal !!! What does anti semitism have to do with India anyway. Buya nowadays finds himself short of the right words to start or continue a decent conversation, more so for the want of the right kind of expletive. As a result of which he replaces a simple, harmless straightforward 'No' with the more Cartman conforming 'Suck my ****'.

bLOGGING in

2007-09-01T11:45:00.000-07:00

“What’s in a name?” asked some wise guy in the 16th century. Sure, there’s nothing at all if you have a real cool name like Shakespeare! I mean it sounds powerful any which way you decide to look at it (shake-spear or sheik’s peer or whatever).

But if you happen to be from my part of the world, you would appreciate what I’m trying to say here: Imagine being named Shallow Shajimon or Blossom Babykutty or worse imagine being a girl and living your life with a name like Lousy Lucykutty or Titty Thomas – all because your parents thought alliteration was way more important than meaning! Or consider having a foot-long set of initials before your name – V.V.V.V.V.V.V.V.V.V.N.S for example - and you would understand.

But at least the latter, unlike the former, doesn’t defy logic – it can be readily explained. What? You want the explanation? Ok you asked for it! Here goes…

Grandpa wants to name his grandson after his favourite planet. Being a little forward, he decides to give it an English touch - Venus Laxman had been pretty much a unanimous decision. Educated though grandpa is, he has a tiny speech disorder. Yes you guessed right, grandpa stutters. Grandpa takes his son to the school on his first day. “What’s his name?” asks the teacher. “VVVVVVVVVVeNuS Laxman” and voila! There you have it. V.V.V.V .V.V.V.V.V.V.N.S Laxman set a new fashion trend (not to mention a Guinness book record) that day, what happened later is quite understandable!

Yes these are the horrors which my people have to live through. No wonder Indians are more spiritual, we start praying right from the time we are in our mothers’ wombs – “God please don’t let my parents be drunk when they name me!”

So next time you see Shakespeare around, tell him that I’m looking for him!

With all of this in mind, we set about trying to name this blog. It was on the 9th of July that it struck me, the name that is, at 2:50 AM to be exact. Arjun and I were sitting, rather uncomfortably I might add, in the vestibule outside the intensive care ward of the Rohini hospital, watching over our eccentric virtuoso pianist. The chump’s jump from the first floor of the 14th block, advertising the to-let sign plastered on the top floors of his anatomy had put us in this uncomfortable predicament. On a dare with himself, Mr. EEE’s believe-it-or-not had taken the plunge, rendering him unable in the process.

So while he was sleeping peacefully inside, completely oblivious to our existence, we were outside trying not to swear too loud. Sleep deprived and weary, Arjun compacted his, self proclaimed, well built body on to a steel chair in the hope of getting some sleep. I’d given up trying to read a book with a mobile torch light. For lack of anything better to do, I thought about what name the lnd blog could have.

Something like the literary times was too cliché. Yet it had to convey that meaning. And then like all good things in life, the name came to mind with no effort at all. The first six letters of the club’s name – LITERA! It was just amazing - it split up brilliantly as LIT ERA (literary times) and LITE RA (the most popular component of the college lingo).

That’s exactly what this blog intends to be - a blog bringing out the literary side in a totally fun and light manner. Hope you have as much fun reading the blog as we have in bringing it to you. Until next time, cheers and blog on.