THE RAGE OF RAG

Almost eighteen years into this world and it was finally time for the eagerly awaited college life. Umm…awaited until that point all right, but when it comes to action stations then the scenario changes somewhat. Enter the fear factor. Well, let’s see; new life- adjustable; new roommates- adjustable; Mess food- yuck!, but I need to slim down anyway; new seniors- errr…excuse me? ; RAGGING- No thank you! (& he faints thereafter…)

Well, there is no such option of ‘none of the above’ in this case. So I had made a positive mindset and prepared myself for the worst.

As we stepped in to the MNNIT premises in the form of its 46th batch, there were no stones left unturned from the side of the administration to protect us from ragging. The first and probably the most comprehensive step was to impose a white uniform as in school. This was supposed to give us a distinct identity and hence protect us from getting camouflaged in the sea of seniors. Our hostel, The Tagore Hostel was already well isolated from the main campus. What else, we had 2 guards at our disposal 24X7. Two for 500 of us, that is.

As we took our first official steps into institute campus in the form of a humongous white line, it took us no time to realize that some of the stones had not been turned properly. The orientation process was pretty clean but the anti-ragging committee meeting with us was not. The committee proved to be contrary to its name. There instructions- just keep your head down(as per rule-watch 3rd button of shirt), wish every senior you come across and address them as sir and ma’am respectively, answer every question he asks, get a military haircut, keep your notebooks in an MNNIT folder and by doing all this, stay safe. Moral of the story-get officially ragged and avoid the unofficial one.

On our way back that Monday evening, we witnessed the ground reality. Thousands of seniors had lined up the path to our hostel and started a pandemonium. We heard abuses from all corners, the dirtiest of them. They forced all of us to keep our heads down and wish them. “Good Evening Sir!” We responded in unison. After that they started handpicking the defaulters. “M**********r where’s your white uniform, were you expecting us to parcel one to you?” , there was victim no. 1. “Son of ***** who asked you to look up, trying to be brave eh? You do that again and I’ll have your eyeballs snatched out.” We were just about to reach the exit gate when one of them approached me. “Where are you from bloody ba****d?” I kept mum. I didn’t even know he was addressing me. How am I supposed to, with my eyes fixed on the concrete path with grass growing through the crevices? “I am asking you, As****e. Are you deaf?” I suspected that it was me who was under the scanner. I quickly replied-“I am sorry sir”. I couldn’t quite understand his next question and hence apologized again, and guess what? He let me go. That was when I realized the power of the word sorry.

Next morning everybody was ready with white uniforms which we had outgrown. It took us some struggle, but we also managed the military cuts and were on our way. Yet again, we were greeted by those familiar abuses. But this time on, I made ample use of my new weapon. “Head down Damn It”-“Sorry Sir”… “Who will wish, idiot?”-“Sorry Sir”… “What’s your name?”-“Sorry Sir”… “Sorry’s your name, dog?”… “Sorry Sir”. It was not fool proof, but it worked as long as I needed it, i.e. Day 3- Wednesday. That was the day when one of us decided that he had had enough, and took the extreme step. We were stunned. The seniors were petrified. Though they were in the clear, the media was quick to point fingers at them.

Well, this was a blessing in disguise for us. No more abuses, no more fear and we had even started breaking the line. Our way of looking at this was that the lad had given too big a sacrifice for the rest of the batch. Although the seniors were quiet, we could tell from their eyes that this was the silence before the storm.

Things settled down to normal after a couple of weeks. The seniors started taking a few risks again and this certainly was not good news for us. We witnessed the next stage of ragging during our preparations for the Fresher’s party. We were like on the house commodities for the seniors. Anybody could catch hold of us in the auditorium and make us do anything. Some were made to act like crows and some like eunuchs. I was a bit lucky in this though. The senior who seized me, forced me to abuse his friend, who in turn returned favor. So I ended up putting them at loggerheads. Not that I was spared. I was then asked to criticize a senior dance instructor’s skills. Well, had there not been such stringent rules, I would have certainly had my first slap from a female.

The final stages of ragging took us to a higher level. Only some unfortunate ones witnessed them. It included get togethers(G.T.) of groups divided on the basis of states and cities of origin and then a group humiliation of the same. Worse than the G.T.’s were the Room Calls in which we freshers were hailed to their seniors’ rooms on a pure draw of luck or bad luck rather. After that, we were totally under the mercy of our seniors. They would make us dance, sing, interview us and grab any possible chance to abuse us for fun. I was the unfortunate scapegoat, twice.

Well, before we could realize that we were in college, a year had already passed by. The tides had pretty obviously changed. We were seniors now and the honors were ours. We had to avenge at least as much as we had ourselves faced. Such was the level of excitation regarding the prospect of ragging our juniors that we had already started practising from the end of first year. Me and one of my friends used to target the resident dog of our hostel. The poor guy was always woken up from his peaceful sleep and fled after getting irritated.

It was finally the first day of second year and about time too, as our patience had started running out. Well, our batch decided to play it safe on the inaugural day owing to all the security beef up and all those talks about a Supreme Court ruling against ragging. So on Tuesday evening a majority of our batch and some of the third years gathered near the Students Activity Centre (SAC) complex after classes, as the first years’ line took that route.

As the line approached, memories of the year that was, had started flashing. All those abuses and taunts were haunting our minds. Everybody was vigilantly scanning each and every rookie in town to shortlist any defaulter or stud or anybody who drew attention. We had started revising all the abuses in our dictionary. Please take note that anybody who knows me must have already guessed that I would not quite have been a part of the collective ‘we’ I am talking of. I was an apprehensive chicken and hence limited myself to inside my hostel premises.

It was already 8 pm and there were no signs of those who had ventured out to officially open the gates of seniority for our batch. My roommate and several of my friends were missing too. We, the survivors had a bad feeling which was only boosted up when we saw a few cars parked in front of the SAC. Well, something was definitely wrong and wrong big time.

It was almost 9 pm when they finally returned, in groups, disgusted, depressed and distraught. Most of them were had verbal abuses all over their tongues. Most of them avoided dinner and went straight to bed. We soon learnt that a really big and bad incident had just marked itself in the pages of MNNIT history.

The SAC Massacre:

There were about an uncharacteristic 150 people in the SAC that evening. Of that figure, only 33% were there with menacing intentions. Most had come for their evening tea, some for genuine purchasing and a few were just attracted to the crowd as is the case in India. No sooner than the first abuse could be delivered, a few final years forced everyone inside the SAC premises citing their safety as a reason. Before anyone could comprehend the scenario, the gates were already shut. Very soon a few cars vroomed in and in came the director, the chief warden and a horde of senior faculty members. They wasted no time and the students were asked to surrender their I-cards, their mobiles were confiscated and then started the characteristic faculty lecture. It very soon transformed into a violent scolding, then into a virtual encounter where dirty abuses and threats were soaring all around the SAC premises. There was no escape. Some tried to allure the canteen owner into their side by concealing the I-cards in his custody. But they too were caught and were looking deeper down the barrel. One of the villainous and shrewd professors also warned them of having to spend the night behind the bars. Nobody would have even imagined that they would be in tears at the age of 20. In 1919 General Dyer did it for the Britishers and unfortunately today, many a Dyers have conquered the nooks and corners of India. Happy Independence Day!

That was a night of embarrassment for many, dejection for most and furor for some. My roommate was one of the innocent ones who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wouldn’t talk and went to bed early. The drama was still not over. There were now rumours of a junior being kidnapped into a senior hostel. So the faculty members were now investigating individual rooms and abusing students for watching movies and not standing up to wish them. With two crammed into a space for one, I guess he expected us to stand on the bed or probably his damn head, a head which they claim has a lot of knowledge; huh!...in their dreams.

One thing that black Tuesday had clearly indicated was the end of the ragging era in our college. We were now scared of even looking at the juniors while they enjoyed the freedom of their lives. No sweat-soaked white dresses, no looking down, no wishing and most importantly no fear. They made the most of that while my batch mates struggled to reclaim their identities which were in those frozen cards. The guys had to hail their parents from as far as Mumbai and Chennai to face the worst humiliations of their parenthood. Well, as that session progressed, the interactions did get on way with the 2008ers, but it lacked the intensity and affability.

The world is round and it was time for yet another batch to script an influx to the top-notch NIT. Only that this time nobody jeopardized their wellbeing. We kept a special eye open to make sure that none of the second years even thought of any notoriety as they had lost their rights to do so. Encore Freshers Freedom it was, as this batch also enjoyed the new ‘clean’ environment inside the campus. The sins of 2007 were the trends of 2009. They wore woodland shoes, flaunted their a-la-mode mobiles and chatted with us like their long lost brothers. While our hostels continued to rot, thousands of rupees were drafted in to set up large anti-ragging hoardings with the infinite consequences enumerated.

As I sit about and complain, I realize that I can do nothing but this. The irony is that some of the super seniors had also said a similar thing-
“You don’t know what ragging is. All that you are facing is a mole in front of the mountain we had encountered. We had to go to the extent of stripping.”
So at the end of the day one has to accept the fact that ragging was the wrong way to the right end. It may instill self-confidence in the guy sooner or later but maybe that’s a matter of choice and need not be imposed. Hence it had been on the decline in the last few years. Criminalizing it may be a bit too harsh, but I guess if it has killed, then that is the status it deserves. So let us all bid a farewell to the pre-college blues. Finally, it seems like our batch’s’ injustice shall remain uncompensated for, i.e. we were the “raggee” but never the “ragger”. Well, we will have to take heart from the hope that there will be a time in the near future when the juniors will start ragging the seniors and we escaped that.

THE NAMESAKE

A name is a label for a noun, (human or animal, thing, place, product [as in a brand name] and even an idea or concept), normally used to distinguish one from another. This is the formal definition of a name as per wikipedia. So it can be concluded with a certain degree of surety that every one of us has a name. In case you still do not have one, go for Player or Player1 if the former is already used. The gamers must have got this one. Actually these are the default names in computer games.

Now, it is a well established fact that as you scale over space and time, you will find a wide range of variations in names. If we go back in time and observe the Greek names then it can be seen that they had an air of royalty and dignity to them. Ethos, Zeus, Athena, Helios are some of them. Ancient Indian names were rather simple, despite the Sanskrit origin. Names like Ram, Sita, Laxman, Karan, Arjun sound rather simple. But that of course is only for us, the Indians. Think of the poor foreigners. I wonder if they have a hand in the conversion of these names into Rama, Laxmana, Arjuna and Ravana and so on. The fact behind this is that in Sanskrit, these names are written without a ‘Halanth’ on the last letter, and hence ought to be pronounced as ‘Ram-uh’. But nevertheless, mispronouncing names is an art in itself and hence I shall be covering it in a subsequent section.


The story of the diversity of names has one of its best manifestations in arguably the worlds most diverse and yet united nation, India. I shall start with a reference to Utter Pradesh, the place where I have been brought up. Most of the names in UP are rather simple. People here prefer to keep it straightforward and common, thereby avoiding the tongue-twisters. Names like Ram, Rahul, Sunil, Ashish, and Vaibhav are brought to adequate use. In fact names of revered gods and those related to wealth, success, blessings, charm and all the possible virtues are a prerequisite. That of course is true for the whole country I guess, a country which has immense faith in the almighty. Now the nicknames in rural UP and Bihar are also noteworthy. An interesting trend is to add ‘va’ to the end of the name as a mark of affection. Another observation about UP and adjoining states is the importance of ‘Kumar’ as a middle name for males. In rural areas some still use ‘Kumari’ for the counterparts. Maybe it just tells a story about the status of females in the masses of UP, a state with a sex ratio of 898/1000.

Next, I shall come to Orissa, which of course is my home state. The Oriya names are yet again derived from the mother of all languages, Sanskrit and hence are more often than not similar to the regular North Indian names. What is different though, is the manner of presentation. Being a coastal state, the climate in Orissa indirectly fabricates a rather laidback atmosphere. This reflects in the nature of the people and hence the dialect. The best illustration would of course be my very own name- Pradeepta Panigrahi. (Talking of the foreign influence on Indian names, as referred to earlier in this text, as I was writing my name, the suggestion that popped up for correction was ‘Prudent Pangram’)
Now the Oriya pronunciation for my name is Pr-awe-dipt-awe Pa-rni-grahi. The extended ‘awe’ in most names is a corollary of the laziness in the air. This has been a cause of great awe for the non-Oriya people I have been living with and a pain in my neck. That is yet another story we shall be coming back to. Oriya also lacks the sophisticated ‘sh’ and the ‘v’ becomes ‘b’. Taking all these laws into account, I present before you, some salient Oriya pronunciations of various names. Prashant becomes Pr-awe-sant-awe, Ashok is Awe-soak, Viabhav is ‘Bouy-bhawb’ and so on. I could go on and on. The Oriya nicknames are generally terminated with a ‘u’. Apu (That’s me), Deepu, Pappu, Litu, Babu, Tutu, Pintu etc. In fact as I make this list, I realize that more than half of my family and acquaintances have these names.

Now coming to my personal favorite, Bengali! Bengali, they say is the sweetest of all the languages. So, not surprisingly, the Bengali names have as much sugar in them as in there Dals. The names are more or less simple but once again, their pronunciations follow a different set of rules altogether. Sourav is generally pronounced as Shourab, Ravindra as Robindro and Lalita as Lolita (Please do not think as far as Russia). The nicknames are also unique in their own sense. To enlist some, we have Bhombol, Potol, Kaloo, Gogol, Tubul, Choton, Bubai, Chonti, and Dinku. Please mind the extensions for the nicknames, eg Gogo-o-o-o-o-l. You must have noticed the recurrence patterns in each of the nicknames and of course, the extensive use of ‘sh’ and the phonetic ‘o’ in them. Awe!!! Sho Shweet !!!


Likewise, all the names signify something about the region. While, most of the Punjabi’s are Jaspreets or Harmeets or Gurpreets with the ‘Singh’ (the lion, a symbol of strength, something which the Punjabis are extremely proud of) as their title, the prolonged South Indian names, which comprise of their own names, their fathers names, their family’s name, their Birthplace’s name and a god’s name as well, are just an indicative of their discipline, meticulousness and extreme faith in god. Imagine my name if would have hailed from that neck of the woods- New York Krishna Pradeepta Prasanta Panigrahi. Similarly, the Marathis have the ‘+kars’ and ‘+e’, the Gujaratis with the Patels and ‘+bhai’ adjusted here and there and of course the North Easterns with the Chinese resemblance, together constitute a colorful kaleidoscope of names which is a true image of the colors of India.

Now, coming to the execution part of this story, with special reference to my own name. As I have mentioned earlier, my name is Pradeepta Panigrahi and is rather unique in Indian names. Now having a unique name has its own pros and cons. The major advantage of having a unique name is that it is….er!...unique. At least you do not have three others responding simultaneously. The disadvantage of course, is that the probability of the other person getting it right is extremely low. Worse than that, the mispronounced name also becomes a source of ridicule for the culprit and the listeners. This situation can be rather embarrassing during childhood or even adulthood and the fact that it happens time and again, makes it more of a traumatic experience.

I have been one of those who has had to live through a lot of stigmas related to my name ever since I had been christened. In the beginning it was tough and irritating but nowadays it’s rather fun to see the all the new variants of my name prop up. The worst experience probably was when I was in fifth grade. My teacher saw the ‘a’ at the end of my name and spontaneously came up with the theory that, Pradeeptaaa is supposed to be a girl’s name (Hey by the way, I hope you readers know that I am, in fact a boy). I had cried like hell that day and was livid on my mother for giving me this name. But I learned that it was actually my father’s idea and the cause behind it was that my father’s younger brother, who had died at a tender age, had this very name. This fact probably pacified me to some extent.

Nevertheless, the very next year I had a breakthrough in my name’s pronunciation. A new school and a new Hindi teacher was the reason. Till now I had gotten so used to Pradeeptaaa that, on being asked my name, I said exactly that. Now this teacher had her reservations. She immediately dismissed the prior one and also criticized me for accepting it. She also asked the entire class to call me Pradeept. I was elated and over the moon. This would probably have meant the end of an era. But my mother did not seem very pleased. She was adamant on it being pronounced Pr-awe-dipt-awe. I tried to convince her that this would not be possible anywhere outside Orissa. So we settled on Pradeept-uh. The teacher who changed my name phonetically did struggle a bit with the spelling at the end of that session. I was horrified to see my name on my report-card, spelled as Pradeepat. Believe it or not, she even explained the logic to my mother. Such was the extent of this fear of being ridiculed that I preferred using my nickname Apu. It is because of this that only a few people know my real name in my colony.

Now it’s time to mention some of the most hilarious versions of my name. Pradeep is a rather obvious one. Someone, on being told Pradeep-tuh by me actually heard Pradeep Dutt. In fact one of my seniors started calling me ‘tuh’ during the ragging period. Some of my batchmates think I am Pranigrahi i.e. one who consumes living things. Some have made it Pani-ghadi which translates to Hand-watch. Folks! Hold your breath for this one. My fourth grade English teacher summoned me as Shudeepto. No prizes for guessing that she was a Bengali. My college friends circle has decided that they are better off giving up. They call me Prady.


Today, I am twenty years old. I have completed half of my Bachelor’s degree. But despite that, I am certain that the onset of every new semester shall lead to the discovery of yet another variant of my name. This shall be followed by a burst of laughter and a ridiculous explanation-cum-suggestion. But over the years, I have learned to simply laugh it off. I take pride in the bottom-line that I get to teach something to my teacher before he can do the same to me. Since every human on this planet is unique, they deserve a unique identity. I have one.

P.S.- In case you were wondering what my name actually means then this should help you:
Pradeepta- Enlightened.
Panigrahi- One who shall marry.

Anyone willing to marry this enlightened one?

The MOS-E-CUTOR

Like most grandpa's, my Dada (as I address him) also has something new to show off each time we visit him in Bhubaneswar. In Dada's case, it more often than not, is related to his favorite passion- gardening. But this time it was going to be something different.

After an emotional welcome home, we were all settled and enjoying a full family get-together. Amidst all the chit chats, Dada all of a sudden seemed to remember something. He said, "Hey wait, I have something to show." Well, I immediately understood and got myself prepared for a new variety of bougainvillea or possibly acacia or mangifera indica (now you know that I have studied bio). Dada popped back within seconds and goodness gracious!, what was that in his hands? He was holding a tennis racquet, a rather small one, as it appeared to me. "Can you tell me what this is?” he asked. Although the racquet was in his hand, I quickly returned the ball to his court-"Er, I have no clue."
I learned that this racquet had an extremely high voltage in its net and is used to swat mosquitoes. It took me some time to respond to that. In fact everyone there was speechless. Dada continued to illustrate its properties and boy, you should have seen that smile of content on his face.
At dusk, when the mosquito influx rate is at its peak, Dada held a demonstration of that instrument. He very meticulously showed me how to switch it on, the grip and the stance. Whooosh, he gave a full swing and splaaatt! There was a vociferous momentary spark on its net which took all of aback. The ladies were stunned and were certainly not amused by any standards. Dada was though. He burst into his characteristic guffaw. Throughout that evening he must have killed, or rather electrocuted (to be more fair to the poor mosquitoes) myriads of mosquitoes spanning the complete length and breadth of the house. This device certainly had something about it.
It would be pretty much the same sight throughout the next few evenings. Of course he had a new partner now. Our young lad, the domestic help had also seen the fun side of that device and was thrilled to bits, each time he got a chance to use it. I would not quite rate him highly for fair play though. In some cases he managed to kill the mosquito with his hands, but yet put the dead body on that dreaded mesh. Now that's cheating.
We had a few guests dropping by in the past few days. Well, Dada was not going to spare anyone. He displayed his possession with great pride. One of them raised a valid query though. What if we accidentally touched the net? Out came the physics then. The net was designed to form Faraday’s cages, which are supposed to be safe from electric shocks. I was not going to try it anyway.

It was now time for part two of this procedure. Dada would always ask me after his demonstration-“Do you want one?” “Well…”, I was confused as usual. He decided to buy one for me and that too the next day, in strict accordance with his ‘Do it now’ principle.

Next morning, we were on our way. But where were we going. That was one question which had been haunting me for the past few days. Where in the world can you find this unique invention? We reached some sort of a temporary market place, which looked more like a trade fair to me. Dada led us to the most unexpected of shops and bingo!!! The shopkeeper pulled out many of them. We purchased two and believe it or not, the cost- a mere Rs. 130/- a piece.

Within a matter of days, this racquet became a spectacle in my house too. It was quite pleasing to hear the distinct sound of a successful hunt. In fact it also gave out an odor after charring each mosquito. So we were literally roasting them. The variant that we owned also had a flashlight in it to attract the insects. Boy! These innovations I say! It also proved to be a nice toy for the kids visiting the house. In fact I ,of and on, use it for some valuable tennis practice too. It had so many applications at such a reasonable price. But how come this thing had not gained the popularity it should have? Not being able to spot a single T.V. commercial or print advertisement of this product was surprising.

So I decided to sketch one out myself. I would love to make a motion ad, but am handicapped for resources. So kindly check out print ad below! I have christened it ‘The Mos-e-cutor as an abbreviation for mosquito electrocutor.

CAUTION: Manufacturers of this product should plagiarize my ad with the knowledge that on doing so, they may have to face severe legal action. (Just Joking) You can give me some credit for it, and maybe some cash as well.

THE EXAM BLUES

DISCLAIMER

All characters (including the narrator) in this story are impurely fictitious. Any resemblance with the events that unfold in this story is yet again impurely coincidental.

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With only one page left to study, I was pretty happy and looking forward to some much needed relaxation. Most of the concepts were getting clear to me and surprisingly, with as less an effort as never before. But as I anxiously tried to complete the last rites, the contents of the page started to blur out. The circuits and equations disappeared and gradually everything started to brighten up. The next thing I saw was a bright streak followed by a rather blurred image of the dust clad ceiling fan. As I panned around the room, I saw my books basking in sunlight and none of them were open. A few moments of dilemma and I realized that I was merely dreaming and worse than that, with only one day to go I still had not touched three chapters of Mathematics, let aside the revision part. To add to my woes, it was already well past eight. The very thought of this got my heart pumping rigorously.

After this early jolt, I decided to quickly go through my routines and start off as soon as possible in order to make the best of the time left. So I hurled my blanket off and jumped out of the bed. But the first sight I was greeted with was that of my roommate Prakash, who seemed fresh after a bath and was deep in concentration with his Maths book open on his lap. That was like adding salt to my injury. I turned to the opposite side to check the status of my other roommate, Ravi. Well, as usual he seemed to be least perturbed by the fact that we had exams tomorrow. He was happily snoring away, absolutely cozy and cuddled up in his warm blanket. Phew! That was relieving.

It was quite a chilly morning and shivering away, I got across some rather fast and rash brush strokes to quickly conclude my tooth care. Considering the tension I was in, it was not quite difficult to get through my motions. I maintained the same speed in my breakfast as well, and soon I was all set to start my mission. No sooner than I had wrapped myself up in my blanket, I pulled out the voluminous book from the bottom of the stack and arranged a rough notebook. Finding a pen in my room was one of the most arduous tasks, amidst all the mess on the table, its constituents ranging from books, heaps of pages, earphones, chewing gum wrappers, t-shirts, Ravi’s hair band and bracelets and of course, not to mention all the dust. I got three, two of which were empty. I decided not to waste any more time and quickly opened the book, Advanced Engineering Mathematics by Jain and Iyenger. With over three hundred pages to read, divided into around ten to twelve units, I had no clue as to where to start from. I confirmed the syllabus from Prakash, who of course must have probably been half way through in his second round considering the fact that his day had begun as early as 6 a.m.

After that I finally came to a consensus and went in for a relatively easier chapter as a confidence booster. Full of energy and a fear-driven motive, the first chapter was history in a matter of minutes. Next, I decided to attack complex analysis, the unit which was the most challenging of all. I got off to a good start, but the moment those elephantine and labyrinthine equations came in to play, my concentration started to waver. I tried hard and struggled to keep my focus but just could not carry on. Sometimes I felt that I was Dyslectic and I could also hear a background music playing-‘Taare zameen par’. That was actually the music was being played by our neighbors in full blast. They had this misconception that music helped improve concentration. In the process they made our lives hell though. At last I decided to take a break and drank some water. The next step was quite a courageous one as I dared to disturb Prakash, who had not even looked out of his book all this time. On enquiring about how much he had completed, I got a rather modest answer-“Not much, to be honest only six chapters complete and I have to give a second round to the rest.” Wow! Second round! I could only dream to be in that position at this stage. Well, one would expect him to be rest assured during the examination eve, taking into account the amount of study he puts in right from day one. No wonder he was the topper of the branch.

I decided not to get myself more anxious by questioning him further. Instead I thought it was high time to wake Ravi up, who was up all night playing his favorite computer game without even touching any sort of course material. “Wake up man! It’s almost 10:30”.Why would he even bother? He gave no signs of waking up until both Prakash and I shouted vociferously. He got up, sat upright and within seconds collapsed forward on his blanket to enjoy a few more moments of a priceless snooze. Well, this procedure continued for about half-an hour before he finally went on to complete the other formalities. That took no less time though. It was now close to noon when he finally gave his books a reason for gratitude towards him. After a few moments of scanning his book,-bang! He shut it and went off somewhere. I later learnt that he had actually gone out for a haircut. God only knows how he could even think of one given the circumstances.

“Just one week ago, I probably would have been doing the same thing as Ravi”, I said to Prakash. Although I couldn’t have expected the same statement from him, I continued anyway. “But just look at us today - Toiling away like mad and not a moment of rest! In fact you cannot even enjoy a relaxed breakfast let aside a sound sleep. Why do they even have exams? Is there any use, especially in this college? First, they will draft in the weirdest of theories then they will set a question paper which I bet they themselves won’t be able to solve, and then to add a damper to this, there is cheating, incoherently strict correction, favoritism etc”. While I was shrugging off all my anger, to my surprise Prakash was quietly listening with his book closed. He gave me a rather skeptical look and reacted by simply saying-“That’s true but what can be done? Everyone has to go through exams. In fact life is a test in itself. It’s a basic rule of this world and cannot be avoided whatsoever. So just carry on the good work.”

“Good work of course”, I said to myself sarcastically. I wonder if I would be able to complete this complex crap today or for that matter even this month. Well, it was time to eat. Obviously I could not enjoy a single bite of my lunch. Not that it was worth enjoying though. Nevertheless, I was back on the desk in a matter of minutes. Welcome back complex variables! I was now determined to get over with this as soon as possible. I put in some extra focus. On my way, I frequently met up with one particular fellow. That was Mr. Cauchy or Dr. or Prof. whatsoever is his designation. Cauchy’s integral formula, Cauchy’s theorem and then the collaborations, Cauchy-Goursat theorem- Man! This guy had done some work in this field. Another such multi-faceted person is the one and only Newton Saab! You can meet him in almost any textbook concerning any course in this world. God! How I wish these blokes were never born. This world would have been a much better place to live in.

My stream of wild thoughts drifted to such an extent that I even linked all this up with terrorism. Quite clearly, the heat had started getting onto my mind now. I was brought back to my senses when all of a sudden the door was opened with a bang. “I’m back!” announced Ravi. He asked our opinions about his haircut. I counter questioned,-“Have you even cut them? They look the same to me i.e. like a girl’s”. His reply-“Hahaha! very funny! Just look carefully; I have trimmed my side locks”. I could not say anything after hearing that. Then, he promptly opened his locker. I thought he was looking for some books, but that was hoping against hope. Out came his laptop and within seconds the AK-47s, pistols and grenades were back in action. “When will you study man?” both Prakash and I asked in chorus. “Arey we have the whole day yaar and of course the night. Remember- raat baki, baat baki. So just chill dude!” And then a computerized voice came from his lappy after a loud blast-“Terrorists win!” I murmured-“I hope they lose tomorrow. The question paper that is. That was going to be no less terrorizing.

It was close to 4 p.m. now and finally I was performing the last rites for complex analysis. I felt much better now and also thought of rewarding myself. A small nap would not have been a bad idea and my intentions were reinforced when I saw Prakash taking forty winks. I was completely knocked out. Believe me, the nap that you get after a long doze of monotonous study is the best one.

When I got up, it was already starting to get dark. “Oh my god it’s 6 o’clock!” –I shouted. I had slept for two hours and was livid with myself. “How could I do this?”- I moaned. Both Prakash and Ravi asked me to cool down. We went out for our evening snacks and tea.

As soon as we were back, I just jumped on with it. The tension clearly reflected on my face and body language. My fists were clenched, I was biting my nails and my legs were shaking vigorously now. I was also taking some deep sighs. Seeing my state, my roommates enquired on whether I was okay. I was rather rude in my reply-“Do I look okay? How can I be okay with all these chapters to finish and hardly any time left? I just can’t understand my self. I get all the time in the world and yet I end up in such a state on the last day. I haven’t attempted a single problem. I am sure I will screw it up tomorrow. What will my parents think? They have been so patient and this is what I do instead. In fact this time I had started off early to avoid the last day tension. But still…” -I remorsed. Ravi was quite patronizing for a change. He tried his best to console me-“Hey c’mon man! You’re still better off than many others. Just look at me. I am yet to begin. Don’t worry about your parents yaar, I am pretty sure they have and will have complete faith on you and your abilities. And of course, there’s always a next time.” Well that was the statement on which the whole world thrives upon. One just had to have faith and be optimistic. Otherwise this world would be hell.

So I was back on track with an added spark. But then all of a sudden the door was pushed open and that too with quite an impact, followed by a voice-“Hellllo guys! Wazzup!” Oh God! It was Suresh. He was one of the world’s most irritating people. He continued-“No point asking you Prakash, but what about you? Complete? Solid preparation, eh?” I knew he would throw one at me. My blood was already boiling and at this point I felt like killing him. Well it seemed like I had to face more of him in the near future. That was because he had brought along all his stationary, with a certain intention of settling here. I am pretty sure he must have been in somebody else’s room prior to this and now it was our turn. Another thing that I was sure about was the answer I would get to the question that followed. “So what’s your state of affairs?” In reply he gave a sarcastic smile and said-“Me? I was just watching a movie. I’ll just be starting.” I smiled in my mind and said-“Ya of course! And I guess that is how you manage all those high grades. Please don’t tell me all those ridiculous tales of yours. I know everything. You have your clandestine study hours and then you pop up here to bother us.” He gave me an astonished look and then tried to explain-“What are you saying yaar. Believe me. It’s true. And as far as the grades thing is concerned, it just seems to happen automatically. I consider myself quite lucky in this case.” Well, he was lucky for sure, but that was because I didn’t have a weapon in my hands.

Suresh very comfortably settled down on my bed and resumed his study. As soon as his book opened his to and fro motion was initiated. My bed, being shaky and squeaky, resonated along. Then to add salt to injury, he started chanting the text material in an attempt to grasp the point. I refuted and so he hopped across to Prakash’s bed. After a short stint of self study, they launched a discussion. I tried to keep my concentration going but it was impossible. My mind kept getting diverted to what they were discussing. I tried being a part but they were talking in Greek, or at least that is what it seemed like. I intervened in their chat-“Er, guys! Could you possibly use a simpler dialect?” So I was amidst the action now. It’s a different thing that I had to keep asking for a second explanation each time and that was not very well received from their party. Nevertheless Suresh was pretty good at explaining things and that too in half the time. He was a bit difficult to convince though. He just would not listen to you until he was fully satisfied with his own argument. But that was probably why he did so well in exams with his last moment preparations.

Meanwhile, Ravi had finally opened his book. He was joined by one of his ‘made for each other’ partners, Dheeraj alias Chintu, who had also just shutdown his laptop. So overall, the room was in a studious atmosphere. Everyone was deep in concentration. Chintu expressed his happiness saying-“So finally we are studying, nothing can go wrong from here.” All of a sudden everything in my book went black. It was a power cut. “Oh damn it! This is the last straw. Chintu, did have to open your big mouth. Now what?”- It was getting unbearable for me now. I tried using my mobile phone’s light. But that was inadequate. So with no choice left we just lingered around with the hope that the lights would soon be back. While strolling around, Ravi slipped in a question-“Hey Priya was looking nice yesterday, no?” On hearing this, Suresh, who until now was busy dictating his concepts, responded instantly-“Oh ya! She’s the only hope in our batch.” I very reluctantly revolted-“Please don’t start this topic or my mind will get distracted.” Prakash tried to catch me on the wrong foot. He said-“Okay, so now we know that Priya is the reason for his distraction.” I desperately pleaded-“No! Don’t take me otherwise.” But who was going to listen. This subject carried on in the mess where we literally were having a candle-light dinner.

Finally at 9:30 p.m. god said-“let there be light.” It was about time too. My parents called in between. Unlike other times, our conversation lasted hardly minutes during exams as they had the same question and I had the same answer-“Ya, preparations seem okay, let’s see.” After getting their good wishes, I rushed back and got started. With hardly any time left, everyone was quiet now. I still had three chapters lined up. The hours went away like seconds. It struck midnight very soon. All at once, Ravi said-“Chintu? It’s already 12 ‘o clock?” With that he burst into laughter. Seeing him I couldn’t resist. Prakash seemed nonplussed though. His words-“Have you all gone nuts?” Well, anybody who would have entered our room at that time would have thought so. The aftermaths of the preparations were distinctly apparent. I huffed and puffed till 2 a.m. I must have resisted at least three alluring appeals to doze off, by my internal clock. With the optimism of having one more to go, I tried to keep it up but it was out of question. I decided to bypass the remaining one and crashed onto my pillow. Despite the light being on with Ravi still up, I managed to get a good sleep.

“No sir, please give me 5 more minutes. I just have two questions left. Pleeease! Don’t snatch it. Noooooooo!!!” My eyes opened. Phew! What a horrible nightmare. My heart was still pounding. After getting ready in a flash, I realized that I still had three quarters of an hour in hand. So I picked up the book again. I decided to take a glance of the omitted chapter. I couldn’t understand much but just mugged up a few formulae and scanned some examples. I applied the same procedure for the other units. But the moment I would switch to the next unit, the previous one just got erased. “I am pretty sure I am suffering from anterograde amnesia, the one in Ghajini, that is.” I announced jokingly. But nobody had the time or patience to even nod. Well, it was time to make a move now. I thought of giving a shot at the loo, but decided to abort the attempt. I settled with some antacid instead. With the current state of affairs I decided to do what I had never done before. I took my book along. I asked Prakash to guide me while I kept looking at the formulae. We reached the examination hall. I did not let go of the book until I was warned. Finally the answer sheets were distributed. I cautiously penned in my details. After an anxious five-minute wait, characterized by an adrenaline rush, the question papers were finally distributed.

That Evening

After half an hour of rest and recreation, I collected the material for the next one and started off soon. I was really tired. It turned out to be quite difficult to concentrate for this one. Disappointed at my poor performance in maths, I tried my best to carry on. I just hoped that there would not be a power cut and there was not.

The Next Day

This was even more tiring. In fact I skipped about an hour of study for internet.

& The Next Couple of Days

Just more draining, exhausting, fatiguing, wearing …

The Final Day

Tomorrow would have been the last one. Almost everyone was taking it easy. Considering that I had no energy left in me, I too wanted to. But I could not afford that. That was because I was hanging on a knife’s edge in this particular course. My prior scores were disgracefully low and I was staring down the barrel. I gave it my best shot. I did not even look at my roommates throughout that evening and believe me I was extremely nervous. That night I slept at half past three.

The Judgment Day

The invigilator threw the question paper on my desk. I took a quick glance and spotted an easy one. I went berserk. I rapidly inscribed each and every step, which was etched in my mind, trying to maintain a neat handwriting. I then found yet another soft pray. I attacked that one too. With two in my kitty, I felt a bit more composed now. I tried the rest one by one. I cracked some but some were left halfway. But this paper seemed to have no bounds. With only fifteen minutes to go, I still had two questions un-attempted and countless, partially. I got hysterical now. My hands started to tremble. I kept looking up for some help from the almighty, but the solution just would not strike despite the fact that I had seen that particular one while revising. I let the handwriting go to hell and just wrote some crap in a hope of at least gaining a mark or two. Very soon the invigilator stepped up to me.

“No sir, please give me 5 more minutes. I just have two questions left. Pleeease! Don’t snatch it. Noooooooo!!!” Only, that this time that it was not a dream. My sheet was snatched and I fell short by two questions. I breathed a heavy sigh and confirmed a couple of my answers with the ‘big shots’. Unfortunately, I had committed a very silly mistake in one question. All in all my performance was average, nothing to write home about. But my dilemma was whether I should mourn on my mistakes or celebrate the fact that the exams were over. Each feeling was encroached upon by the other. I checked with Ravi and Prakash. While the latter was busy with post-exam discussions, Ravi was virtually dancing. I can understand how tumultuous a time it would have been for him in particular. I did not ask them about their performances. Instead I decided to celebrate the moment. Well, my stomach was the first one to demand some attention. It was high time too. I had hardly eaten in the past few days. So we went out enjoyed some delicious samosas. I was completely drenched out, but yet that feeling of freedom was gratifying.

A Few Months Later

Prakash was at his peak. In fact he hit a ten-on-ten in the previous semester. Ravi’s gaming and singing were on a high. He recently came second in an inter-college gaming competition. His victory speech-“Just see my game after the summer term. I shall definitely come first next year.” Well, that is right folks. He will have to spend the summer term here and that too because he fell two marks short in a course. At least he is optimistic about it. Suresh’s honeymoon with his luck never seems to end. As usual, things struck his mind at the right time and place in the last semester exams as well. As far as I am concerned, I think I have shown some improvement both in academics and co-curriculars this semester. Though my last one was not quite up to the mark and I could do with a bit more of progress in terms of grades. Meanwhile, most of us are and will continue to thrive on one particular statement-“I’ll definitely work harder next time.”