In this age of literary outburst that overwhelms our senses with manifold individualistic takes, ranging from socio-political issues to what can only be called construed psychobabble, this is our attempt to express ourselves both as individuals and as a collective throng of the nonconformists that we often tend to be, in true BITSian ishtyle. Reflecting the melting pot of culture that BITS is, our very first issue has turned out to be a potpourri of short stories and humourous verse, with no specific theme, but tones that oscillate between humour and realism. This 'publication', as we like to call it, presents before you a wide range of literary spreads, from a sarcastic take on the voter turnout, to the travels of a boy and his ant, to a description of a normal day at BITS.

We have learnt a lot during the making of this magazine, of the importance of teamwork to expendable deadlines, as this magazine has been in the hangar for quite some time.

On.the.rocks'09 is an attempt to string together all these thoughts of love and the vissicitudes of life, of struggles and victories. As it takes flight now, we hope it will live up to your expectations.We hope that this offers an engaging read for even a small quantum of time, and our greatest sense of accomplishment shall come from our small hope that some of you shall be affected (positively) by one of our articles.

Acknowledgements:We would like to thank: Our director Prof.V.S.Rao and staff for their support.

Our Contributors, without whom this wouldn’t have been possible.

The photography club, for all the evocative picures.

The English Language Department, for giving us time to learn the ropes.

All those people who kept asking,“When is the magazine coming out?”

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From the director’s desk Towards the end of the first year of academic operations, it gives me immense pleasure to write a few words

for The BITS Annual Magazine “On The Rocks”. True to the landscape of the Deccan, “On The Rocks” is a fitting name for our campus magazine. The campus

can now boast of the quick pace at which things are moving, whether academic, co-curricular, administrative, research related or even construction related. Full of all-round happenings across the organization, we are all zealously working on our mission towards achieving the vision set by us. The events from laying of the foundation stone to the conclusion of the first year testify our unified effort in building up the full fledged campus with all necessary amenities.

We are poised for greater expansion in terms of infrastructure, number of students and staff, optimization of our capabilities, leveraging our strengths and making the campus life highly qualitative and result oriented. For that, we together need to demonstrate our dedication in all spheres to bring out enviable success on all fronts. We may not be absolutely immune against the problems that can be posed by any nascent campus, but as a campus that got commissioned within 18 months of laying the foundation stone, BITS – Pilani, Hyderabad Campus, as you all know, stands out and we are bound to keep up our unified efforts and accelerate to further successes.

My faith in my students and staff members is unfathomable and I am sure that the rating of whatever they embark upon will never be less than outstanding. I see the same kind of quality and excellence in the compilation of this magazine too.

On the eve of the launch of the annual magazine “On The Rocks”, I extend my best wishes to the students and the faculty personnel for the success of the magazine and all similar endeavours.

“ Education is the most important single factor in achieving rapid economic development and technological progress and in creating a social order founded on the values of freedom, social justice and equal opportunity. ”

With all the above feelings (and some more……an excitement nearing frenzy for one), we made our way to the nascent campus of BITS, BPHC from various parts of the country. The emotions (and expectations) ran high. The hellish years of grueling study were over, we made it to BITS. It was going to be fun all the way from now.

8.8.08. The very first day on the campus was a bit of a shock to put it mildly. The registration went on smoothly enough, but er ...that was all. The hostels had a problem with electricity, the roads were still in the very rudimentary stage and the mess lacked a proper roof. All of us had visualized the campus in different ways, but no one had imagined a scenario quite like this. Disappointed in more than one way, we had only one thought to console us; things could get only better. And then came the real whopper, the opening had been postponed .The campus would open 3 weeks later....on 28.8.08. After coming to the campus in full gallop, with all our stuff and parents (and siblings in some cases), we had to go back again.

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28.8.08. We landed on shore once more, with more trepidation. But this time around, things were better.

Significantly better. The roads had been built, the hostels were ready and so was the LTC. The mess got its roof. A collective sigh of relief could be heard all around and the “settling in” process began in earnest.

The days passed by in a flash as we got used to the new system (different timetables, breaks between classes, separate lectures and tuts), made friends and began to enjoy hostel life. The atmosphere of camaraderie grew as we celebrated festivals together, formed the clubs, enjoyed the events taking place at break-neck speed and grumbled together at the numerous tests. Slowly, but surely enough we got our library, playgrounds, IPC and the very vital MORE. The campus began to seem like home.

A year has passed by since we first came here. Looking back one can think of quite a few memories that stand out; the first college fest PEARL , RAF nights, festivals that we celebrated together, a couple of really great seminars.... the list goes on and on. We had our highs and our lows but all in all, it was a great beginning.

This year caused us to change in many ways. Being part of the first batch of BPHC meant that we got the chance to do all that we wanted along with the responsibility to do it right. We learnt many things, most of them the hard way, but ultimately it was worth it....to be a BITSian.

For, in which other institute in the country can a student pursue degrees in computer science and biology simultaneously, make his own time table and interact with excellent faculty, while participating in a wide range of extra curricular activities at the same time?

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“…(T)his oyster captured the precious raindrops and blossomed today into what is Pearl ‘08 ”, these were the words of our Director on the occasion of BPHC’s first ever intra-college cultural fest, Pearl ’08. The day was a landmark in the history of the campus and ensured that all of us take home memories that will be cherished for a lifetime.

The day kicked off with a “cinematic” beginning, in the literal sense. Honourable Chief guest for the occasion, Mr. Shekhar Kammula, well-known filmmaker and a man for whom dreams top the priority list, aptly represented the spirit and never-say-die attitude of BITSians. Speaking on the occasion, amidst wild cheering, he recounted the larger-than-life story of his success. A tryst between education and cinema was made possible with our Director asking the chief guest to host guest lectures in filmmaking for the students of BPHC.

A host of cultural performances ensured that the inaugural ceremony will be remembered forever. Two performances require special mention here, “Behind Blue Eyes” and “Toss of Feathers” - that received standing ovations and a word of genuine appreciation from the chief guest himself!

In a two minute rendezvous with the press club, the chief guest Mr. Shekhar Kammula volleyed a series of questions on his films, actors and life. Excerpts from the interview ....

Q. What inspires you to choose versatile, yet captivating themes for your movies?A. I only make movies on themes that inspire me and are close to my heart. Movies are my gateway to expression

and I use that opportunity to the fullest.

Q. You make heroes out of nobody. How do you create the kind of magic that Tyson was in “Happy Days”?A. I never actually considered any particular guy for that role. During the auditions, we were looking for a lean

guy, and we ended up with a hairy one too!!

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Q. Your message for the students here….A. Keep your dreams alive, follow your heart and never give up in any case. The inaugural ceremony was followed by numerous events conducted by the various clubs on campus that

elicited a great response from the students.

The events hosted by the English Literary Activities Society (ELAS) were a treat for the audience with a perfect blend of humour and entertainment. The first event conducted by the club was 'Ship-wreck', in which the participants had to impersonate famous personalities in a situation simulating a capsized ship. Two other events were the BIG FIGHT and SPIN A YARN. Spin A Yarn progressed on a lighter note as the participants spontaneously spun lines to create rib tickling stories. Big Fight was a thought a provoking event in which five participants impersonated a political leader , a sportsperson , a reputed industrialist , a renowned beauty contest winner/actress and an alumnus of BITS, each arguing as to who would make a better politician. The discussions touched sensitive issues concerning the current day situation and were aimed at highlighting the need for vigilance on our part as citizens of India. Apart from these, the club conducted some informal events like Rapid fire and Scrabble, to provide entertainment between the events. DRAMA CLUB EVENTS

Channel Surfing and Mad-Ads competitions conducted by the dramatics club for Pearl '08 showcased the wonderful acting skills and an excellent sense of humour of the students of BPHC. Although the participation was lower than expected, the teams that participated performed beyond expectations. The participants had the audience in splits as they advertised the wacky product given to them by the judges. Overall, a display of good

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acting and lots of humour made the event a success.

QUIZ CLUBThe Pearl Quiz 2008 held by the Quiz Club of BPHC turned out to be a huge draw. The quiz consisted of

five rounds — including a visual, a topic-based round and a crossword round. In each of them, the teams competed fiercely to gain the upper hand. The fierce competition continued till the last round, necessitating a tie-breaker. The quiz master hosted the event with perfection and the sportive audience had the answers ready even before the teams could have a shot. ARTS & CRAFTS EVENTS

Raw Genius: The participants were told to build a bridge which could hold up to 5 kilos of weight, using only paper and tape. This event tested the “engineering skills” of the participants while generating a whole lot of fun on the way.

Completo: This was an event which showcased the artistic talents of the participants by getting them to give a creative finish to an incomplete drawing.

DANCE CLUB

The much awaited dance competition kicked off with the traditional Ganesh Vandana. The enthusiasm of the crowd knew no bounds as the participants jived with vigour to various songs in all possible styles

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including classical, hip-hop and the more familiar Bollywood style thrusts and moves. The amazing footwork, coordination and energy of the participants made the event worth a watch. MUSIC CLUB

The concluding event of Pearl '08 was a wonderful melange of various genres of music, from classical to rock, all neatly packed into a timespan of 45 minutes. It started with a wonderful Carnatic-Hindustani jugalbandi in 8 raagas, followed by Bollywood songs and finally a pulsating rock performance by the emerging music band. Going by the audience reactions, the music club seems well set to rock the campus in the years to come!

DJ NYT

Undoubtedly, the best part of Pearl '09 was the DJ Nyt at the end of an already unforgettable day. Making the most of an open-air discotheque (the football ground was roped in for the purpose!), amid thumping music and pulsating lights, the students had a blast that was meant to last . Never mind the long and tiring day they just had, it was a party that rivalled the best for sheer crowd participation. Nearly the whole campus was out there, responding to every change of beat with loud cheers and undiminished energy. It did kind of quieten down after the girls left the floor (courtesy hostel closing time!), but it was excellent while it lasted!!

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The skills were there and so was the talent. All that the students at BPHC needed was a day to organize a mini tech fest. And what better day than the 28th of February, widely remembered as Science Day? We did not let go of this opportunity and the Science Day was celebrated on a grand scale. Various events were organized which proved beyond doubt that we are engineers in the making. A few highlights of the day are presented here:

Guest Lectures: The day witnessed guest lectures on various topics by eminent scholars and industrialists. A few of them are the talks by Dr. Santosh Mishra (Executive Vice President, Dr. Reddy’s Labs) and Dr. V.S.S. Sas-try, School of Physics.Robotics Workshop: A hands on experience in the field for the students, by the students to enhance the al-ready overwhelming interest in the field of Robotics.BURN ’09 : This was a Radio Controlled car (RC) building and racing challenge that saw the largest participation in the whole event.Project Display: A visual display of the efforts put in by students in various fields, organized separately by the EEE & ECE Association and Synapsis, the Bio Association.Dawn to Dusk: BPHC’s first ever documentary was presented by Alchemy, the Chemistry Association. The docu-mentary, which brought to light the harsh world of drugs and their abuse, was well appreciated. Apart from these, a myriad of activities ranging from obstacle races to gaming events to coding competi-tions were organized throughout the day. In the end, everyone had a new experience to take back. Even on a wider platform, our student representation at Quark’09 (the Goa campus techfest.) - Abhijit Kane, Tanmay Shah and Kartheik Iyer and Cognizance (the IIT Roorkee techfest.)- Ambareesh Nittala and Faisal Ahmed proved their mettle by competing and winning on an even basis with their contemporaries and seniors.

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28th of April 2007 has gone down in the history of BITS-Pilani as the day when the foundation for a new campus, and a new dream, was laid. On this day, the foundation stone was laid for the Hyderabad Campus by the Honorable Chief Minister Dr. Y. S. Rajasekhara Reddy in presence of late Shri. K.K.Birla. The pace of change of this campus from then to now is truly something to witness.

On the 28th of April 2009, the staff and students of BPHC celebrated the first ever Foundation Day. The day kicked off with various events organized by the clubs. The real action began in the evening when the people on campus spoke of their success and harmony to a huge gathering. Chief Guest for the event Dr. T. Hanuman Chowdhary (Chairman-Pragya Bharati and Fellow TCS) congratulated the team of students and faculty and reminded us of the efforts of our founders. Guests of Honour Dr.M.V. Ramana Rao (Chairman-MIC Electronics) and Mr. Sarat Sura (CEO-Sierra Atlantic) gave away the prizes for various events held throughout the year.

The cultural events that followed kept everyone glued to their seats. The Dance Club, the Drama Club and the Music Club each presented their masterpieces that everyone appreciated. Hosts for the day, Rajkishan, Deepti, Kalyan, Nikitha, J.V. Chaitanya and Hasita added a different touch to the show.

And if you think everyone retired for the day after all the fun, you couldn’t be more mistaken. Right after the cultural show, the entire batch of students grooved to DJ Asif’s music way into the night! Yes, the DJ Nyt was yet another jewel in the day’s unforgettable basket of events.

Apart from the various on-campus cultural events, our campus also earned multiple accolades in BITS-Goa’s Waves-Summer’09, with students like Swagat Yadav, A.Alankrutha, Raghav Krishna, Shruthi Vishwanath, Umesh and Smaranika Das and others contributing greatly towards making our presence felt.

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Sports play an important part in the development of an individual. An enthusiastic bunch of Sports Secs ensured that the students had an absorbing sporting year all round. Table Tennis

The first sporting event to be held in the campus was the Table Tennis Tournament which saw the participation of a whopping 68 students. The tournament reflected the enthusiasm of the students. The final match between U. Rajkishan and G. Bhaswanth in the Men’s Singles, which went right down to the wire, provided a fitting finish to a thrilling tournament. The winner was Rajkishan with Bhaswanth and Chandan Kumar Sahu as the first and second runners-up respectively. In the Doubles category, amongst 48 participants, Rajkishan and Chandan clinched the top place. The teams of G Bhaswanth – P Radhev and Anurag Varma – Vignesh Sundaram were th first and second runners-up.

Nikitha Midha was the winner in the Women’s category. Madhu Garg and B Anusha were the first and second runners-up.

In the Mixed Doubles category, Rajkishan and Priyamvada Sethi were the winners with teams Shilp – Shraddha and Tanmay – Geetha as the runners-up.

Chess

Nearly 60 students squared off on chess boards in the inaugural Chess Tournament of BPHC. An intense final match was played out, and V Prakhyath walked away with the honours. The runner-up of the tournament was Shekhar Singh.

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Volleyball

Undoubtedly the most watched sporting event of the year was the Volleyball Tournament. Teams from various disciplines battled it out on the Volleyball courts. The highlights of the event were the semi-final and final matches. The four teams, Civil Economics, ECE and EEE reached the semis; ECE and EEE making it to the finals. In an absorbing contest, egged on by a wildly cheering crowd, the EEE team bagged the Cup.

CriCkeT league

BPHC started its own Cricket League, on the lines of the IPL. The league was divided into two stages: the first stage saw teams from all disciplines battling it out for a place in the top four. In the second round, the semi-finalists had the option of bidding for the players from the ousted teams. A player’s net worth was based on the performance in the previous matches.

The event saw some seriously heavy hitting, with standout performances like Sourabh Bhattacharya’s scintillating 85 off 48 balls. Sports Secretary Abhinay Rao informed us that over 180 students had participated in the tournament, including the non-playing members like managers, etc.

The final match, which was played out between the Mechanical and ECE teams, was a humdinger. The Mech team, teetering on the brink of defeat, were saved by a stellar bowling performance and ended up as the victors.

off Campus sporTs

Priyamvada Sethi returned with the Gold medal in the Table Tennis event at the BITS Open Sports Meet (BOSM) held at Pilani. The trio of V Abhinay Teja, Abhijit Kane and Sarthak Gupta won the Bronze in Lawn Tennis at the sports meet at Goa, SPREE ’09.

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DISCLAIMER: the characters and situations in the following writeup are “purely fictitious” and any resemblance to anyone is “purely coincidental”.

Uhh... morning already... and WHO is this banging the door so hard??

“WAKE UP!! We got a tut test now, remember?? It’s a quarter to eight already, hurry up!!”. “Whew!! Reached just in time. You spend a whole night preparing for a test and then almost miss it… Now what was that Delta Function about? Hmm?

* “... so, the spectra of IR Spectroscopy... WHO WAS THAT??!”The sound of jazz and full bass guitar, from my favourite rock band, and unfortunately, my ringtone. Forgot to switch it off again! That was close, thank god the attendance was good today, else I was as good as caught. Here goes the guitar again...“Hello?”“Hi dude, it’s me, how are you?”“Me fine, wassup?”“Our ol’ gang is planning a reunion in town, when are your exams ending?”“Lemme see, Test 1 throughout March, Test 2 in April, compres in May and tut tests in between all these…”

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* The LTC Notice Board, where the reasons behind our horrors and reliefs are pinned up. Let’s see... extra class at 5.00 pm, Guest Lecture at 5.30 pm, Association Meeting at 6.00 and a club meeting too... why do they always cram things up?? “Hey! Ain’t coming for the lecture class?” asks me our ‘9 pointer’.“Nah, feeling sick now, will return to hostel.”(Read: There is an India vs Australia match going on, and I DON’T want to miss out on the action).

*“Wanna play badminton?”“Well, I need to wash my clothes, prepare for the upcoming tests, tidy my room... let’s go play.”

* 8.30 pm, supper time. You do get hungry after spending a couple of hours understanding the complexities of mathematics.“Mess mein kya milega?” asks my partner.“What day is it today?”“Wednesday.”“Bekaar hoga, let’s go to the cafe...”

* “Darn!! Out of ammunition...noooo...rematch!!”I am a warrior now, in a virtual war fought over the LAN for... well, for the sheer fun of it.Oh, 3:00 a.m already! Time really does fly by in these gaming sessions.“Feeling sleepy?”“Nopes.”“Chal movie dekhte hain.” 5:30 a.m, my biological self is longing for rest now. Ahh... here comes our ‘9 pointer’.“Up so early?”“Make that ‘to bed so late?’ ”“Haha, night out again? Anyway, did you get question 9 of section 6 of chapter 5 of the first text book of phys-ics?”“No. Why?”“We got a test today, remember?”“Oh no...”

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Now before you raise your eyebrows, scandalized by the above sentence, please understand that I am talking about the elections. The General Election 2009, described by the press as a dance of democracy etc etc etc, threw up a lot of surprises. To start with, the venerable Election Commission decided that instead of the index finger being marked with the ink, it would now be the middle finger that would be inked. Well, whoever said bueraucrats didn’t have a sense of humour? It was hilarious to see celebrities and politicians proudly showing their middle digits to the cameras en masse, with million watt smiles to boot. Apparently, it was after some time that realization dawned on them and they stopped, obliging with a Namaste, instead. But while there were plenty of such “highs” during silly season (i.e. election season), there was also one troubling low – that of low urban turnout of voters.

Urban voter turnout in India has always been much lower than the rural turnout. Perhaps, this is also the reason that the urban populace is under-represented in politics. Have you ever seen free T.V.s being offered to middle class residents? For the poor, ‘caste’-ing the vote has been the only way that they can assert their viewpoints and thus the rural voter turnout has always been very strong.

The low turnout has led politicians to focus less interest on the needs of the urban citizens, ergo, making them a small vote bank. The election manifestos of all parties will mention mostly populist measures, but contain only a passing mention of infrastructure. Free power and television sets take precedence over congestion-free roads.

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Judging from the number of protest marches and general outpouring of anger against the politicians after 26/11, it was expected that more people would show up and vote and that the usual “jaane bhi do” type attitudes would change. But it was not to be so. In South Mumbai, the constituency where the Taj Mahal hotel, the ground zero of 26/11 is located, voter turnout was low, lower than last year. There was very little improvement in urban voter turnout compared to the 2004 general election and this was in spite of more awareness, innovative campaigns like ‘Jaago Re’ etc. The blogerati/Twitterati which were very pretty vocal during the attacks, failed to turn up when it came to the ballot box. The adage - Talk is, after all, cheaper than action - seems to have been proved right.

The reasons for not voting are many. Some blame the heat wave, others have owned up to lethargy, whereas for some, the most common reason is the cynical “What will my one vote do?”. Its worth quoting Ralph Waldo Emerson here - “Those who stay away from the election think that one vote will do no good: ‘Tis but one step more to think one vote will do no harm.” Does not every small drop make an ocean? We are responsible for the poor leaders we elect as well as for the good ones whom we dont. As the saying goes, bad leaders are elected by the good people who dont vote.

Merely voting might not be the panacea for all our problems, but if development is to be preferred to a free T.V. set, then citizens must (refer title for more.)

On a lighter note, there have been some excellent bits of humor on the Internet on the difference in voting patterns between Mumbai and Delhi. The following one takes the crown :

Ten reasons why the elite South Mumbai did not vote: 10. Clashed with Salsa class. 9. Election whites not dry cleaned. 8. No candidate a hottie. 7. Tony Jethmalani contesting from suburbs. Sigh! 6. No valet parking at booth 5. Spotted servant in queue ahead of us 4. Driver did not come 3. Elections over dude, Obama won! 2. No party tackling real issues, e.g., reduce Gold Gym rates 1. No home delivery!

Why Delhi turned up to vote 10. They loved the Tata Tea ad 9. They saw the Chopras go out, and thought they must overtake the Lancer from left 8. Bunty’s girlfriend wanted to vote when they were going out for some Chinese 7. Diwan Sahib on second floor persuaded them. He is ‘jaaaint saactry’ in DPCC 6. Without stable government, real estate will not revive 5. Election Commission directly asked Pappu. So nice of them.... 4. Grandfather started talking on Partition, and they had to run 3. Auntyji hoped some TV crew will come and take a sound bite 2. Baba Ramdev said it is good for health And finally, 1. They had to beat the Bambaiyaas. Izzat ka sawaal hai, hainji?

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It has been an year of ups and downs, a little adjustment and lots of enjoyment, a few tears and many laughs for all of us. We’ve all learnt something new, something different. This incident, narrated to us by a student of BPHC in the first couple of weeks we spent here, gives you a glimpse of what it’s like living in a hostel for the first time and learning to love it.

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled outside and it was raining as if for the first time ever. The kind of night, incidentally, on which your friend’s cousin’s uncle (or anyone equally distantly related, for that matter) generally has an encounter with a ghost or two. All I needed now was a knock on my room door, and the stage would be set for a lovely, spooky, ghost story.

As I was reflecting along these lines, there was a knock at the door. (I know, a cliche, but what can I do?) And before you start hypothesizing, no, it was not a floating figure dressed all in white. It was something much, much scarier. (“What? What?” I hear you ask. Oh yes, amazing hearing I’ve got.)

It was my next door neighbour, looking like a dishevelled devil. And a very badly frightened dishevelled devil it was too.

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“What?” I asked suspiciously, thinking that maybe she had suddenly remembered an exam we were going to have. (Her expression supported this deduction of mine.)

“Oh, nothing. Just a couple of monsters under my bed, so I thought I’ll sleep in your room instead.”

“What?!” I repeated, not sure if this was her idea of a joke. I mean, okay, my friend was not exactly a model of sanity, but I found it hard to imagine that she actually believed in the monsters-under-the-bed stuff.

“There. Are. Monsters. Under. My. Bed...” she began, repeating each word slowly as if I was thick.

“Yes,” I said impatiently, “I understood that. What I did not understand is: SINCE WHEN HAVE YOU STARTED BELIEVING IN GHOSTS?!”

I shouted out the last part.

“I’m telling you, it’s not ghosts, it’s monsters. M-O-N-S-T-E-R-S. Now will you let me in? I’m not exactly warm and cosy out here in the corridor.”

By now, I was convinced my friend had finally cracked.

“Let’s go meet these ‘monsters’ of yours,” I said, not really willing to give up on my sleep for the night. (She sang in her sleep, you see. Actually sang. Sheesh.)

“You can go if you’re so interested. I’m going to sleep,” she announced. Reluctantly I dragged myself to my feet and went into her room to investigate. The corridor was dark. As I lifted the sheet and bent down to check under the bed, I saw—

Nothing. At first, that is. Then I saw a really huge dustball. All big and grey and round. We stared at each other for a moment. Then I sighed and turned to go and reclaim my room.

“Aaaargh!”

It was a perfectly pitched, theatrical scream. I whirled around and, needless to say, the owner of that scream stood with her hands over her mouth. It was the girl who stayed a few rooms away from mine.

“Whew, I thought you were a zombie!” she said, as if that excused everything.

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically, wondering why on earth everyone had chosen that night to act like perfect dolts.

“Hey, since you’re already awake, why not go to my room and solve those assignment problems we’ve had since ages?”

She actually sounded excited. It was 11.30 p.m. Now, I am the kind of person who usually cannot sleep before 1 am. But as soon as my ears picked up the word “assignment” (and believe me, they’re very sensitive to such data), I remembered about a dozen reasons (fourteen, to be exact) why I should be in bed at that very moment.

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If only she had suggested a nice movie...

Thinking it would be highly rude to refuse, I went with her and racked my brains over Laplacians and Divergences for about half an hour.

And then, finally, my friend was hit by the brilliant idea of turning in for the night. About time, too, I thought. But I didn’t say it out loud.

She walked back with me to my room, seeming strangely preoccupied.

As I knocked at my door, demanding to be let into my own room, a blinding glare from my room suddenly lit up the entire corridor.

I blinked.And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Two of those who had been lying in wait in my room (this I found out later) grabbed my arms and legs, and proceeded to toss me up into the air eighteen times, all to a badly sung chorus of, “Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You...”

And then, they threw me down onto the floor real hard. Ouchie.

It turned out that it had all been a deliberate hoax—the monsters-under-the-bed, the late-night assignment problem - solving, all of it—just to get me out of my room for a while and set it up for a surprise birthday party for me. And all I had been expecting was a phone call from the folks at home...

I pride myself on being a cynic. I never get emotional, not even when I watch Karan Johar flicks. But on that day, even though my face and hair were dripping with chocolate cream, even though my backside hurt, I must admit, I was touched.

What is Beauty?Sudha Thiruvikraman

The beauty of the legs is To walk in the right pathThe beauty of the stomach is To digest tasty foodThe beauty of the heart is In showing humanityThe beauty of the hands is In donating to the needyThe beauty of the mouth is

In speaking the truthThe beauty of the nose is In smelling pleasant fragrancesThe beauty of the ears is In listening to wisdomThe beauty of the eyes is In viewing God’s creationsThe beauty of the head is To bow down to JUSTICE.

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Our self-destruction we now await,Cursing ourselves for our fate,Desperate to recover, and with regret so great,This is the only tale anyone can narrate…

Life evolved on earth and started getting better,Man evolved with his brain or ‘grey matter’.With this brain, so selfish man became,He conquered all that he saw when he came.

‘Progress” took man into a state of joyful trance,While Life and Nature took up a fighting stance…They wait for man to take this life-saving chance,But hardly anyone gives a careful glance…

Now we slowly watch the painful death of Life,With tension thick enough to blunt the keenest knife,Waiting to throw Life a safety rope…Looking for that glimmer of hope…

Life-saving chances man can so easily spurn,As he looks only for how much he can earn.Fuels, wood and calories continue to burnAs man takes Life to the point of no return…

As the walls before me seem sky high,My mind fills with thoughts I just can’t deny.I think of walls that separate a warrior from his beloved,Of those that cause wars most horrid.Walls that demark the blacks from the whites,Walls that cause communities to fight.Those that exist in people with minds narrow,Those that keep the isolated in their sorrow.Those that keep dark secrets from seeing the day’s light,Of those the British set up - to uphold their might.But how strange it is to discoverHow a mysterious truth itself uncovers.Of all the walls that cross my mind,The concrete ones are the weakest you can find!

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Once upon a time, in a tiny village of India, lived Mohan, no Manoj, er… a boy with a 5 letter word that starts with M. Sixteen years old, Manoj was a voracious reader who would pounce on any and every new book that would come his way. Manoj’s village was a small, poor village on the outskirts of Tamil Nadu.

Manoj would travel twice a year to Mumbai where his uncle lived, to buy books second hand. As his reading

habit grew, he also started writing stuff, thus giving vent to his imagination and escaping the humdrum of everyday life.

One fine morning, in the middle of the night, Manoj lay in the sunshine and read under the starlight. A book

named Eragon was read by him, and the age of the author (16 like himself) interested him. If a Paolini could write, so could he, but for that the world he needed to see. So, at the end of this crappy rhyme, Manoj set out to earn his dimes. [Write a book and earn big bucks…]

Manoj set out to explore the world, to gather knowledge and write his literary opus, along with his pet ant,

“Ant”. He bundled up his meager belongings, and started hitchhiking towards Mumbai, where he hoped, his uncle would finance his endeavors. On this way, he would either work at Dhabas, or put up ant circus performances at tiny villages. In this way, he reached a village called Thumkunta in Andhra Pradesh.

Thumkunta was a little town, whose inhabitants didn’t know what cheese was, and thus were ignorant about

all the finer points of life. The inhabitants told him of a place called BPHC, where children of his own age were held captive and tortured with something called ‘tuts’. He did not understand what it was, but prayed for their

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well-being and set off (to infinity and beyond). Manoj arrived at the Hyderabad international airport. How, he didn’t know. A little man in a black overcoat

came rushing up to him, and thrust a black suitcase into his hands, and mumbled something that sounded to him like, “Mein jer funckt, monsiéur, Telugu raadu” and trotted away. Dumbfounded, Manoj looked around him, and then at the bag in his hand. He looked up, and saw some policemen running in pursuit of somebody. Always a fan of excitement, he stood and watched their frenzied search, interspersed with swears and curses. Suddenly, one of the policemen saw the bag in his hand, and to Manoj’s consternation, all the policemen ran towards him.

“You have been arrested on charges of international smuggling of drugs, counterfeit notes, and other

undesirable things. You have the right to remain silent…….” Manoj was sitting in a cell in England. With the one phone call that he had been given, he had called his

uncle in Mumbai who had promptly disowned him. He had been whisked away to London, and spent 3 days in a local constabulary. He wasn’t overly worried. There had been no torture like he had read in books, nor attempts to make him sign confessions. The food was surprisingly good, and it had been days since he had slept indoors. On the whole, he felt good and not a little entertained, kinda like Jeffrey Archer (only an unglorified Indian version).

On the fifth day, the hurricane Henrietta hit London so unexpectedly that even the weather cynics weren’t

prepared.(Weather cynic: “The weatherman says it’s going to be sunny outside, so I’ll just take my raincoat”.) It was a typhoon of previously unimagined proportions that damaged a great many buildings, and went about causing all sorts of carnage in general. As all the policemen abandoned the structure and ran for dear life, Manoj sat in his cell and desolately thought about his life. He expected his whole life to flash before his eyes, but surprisingly all he could think of was a potato. Eventually, a flying car came and smashed against the wall of his cell, liberating him. However, Manoj’s leg was trapped under the rubble and consequently, he was unable to escape. At this critical juncture, Ant grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out, but it got blown away as soon as it let go of his collar.

Tears welled up in Manoj’s eyes at the thought of his partition from his beloved ant, ‘Ant’. After he had

escaped, he had been hit on the head by a flying shotgun, among the other projectile debris. In a daze, he had picked it up and started walking aimlessly. A bank robber, who had taken advantage of the chaos to split with his partner’s share and a small tingling sensation that he had as a substitute for a conscience, saw Manoj walking towards him with a shotgun, panicked, mistaking his tired crawl for the slow stalk of a professional , threw 2 bags of money at him and ran away, screaming, “All right, ya happy now?? Don’t point that thing at me.” Startled, Manoj picked up the bag, saw what was inside and following the sound Indian teachings his father had imparted to him, kept the bags without another thought.

Manoj bought a car and other things and toured the entire world, picking up new experiences along the way.

One day, as he was walking along a street in a market in Cairo, Egypt, he noticed that a dog had been following him pointedly since the past one and half days. Even when he tried to shoo it away, it kept coming back. Finally, he decided to see what it wanted. On closer inspection, he saw, that on a small white patch of hair on top of the dog’s forehead sat ‘Ant’, his once pet ant, now the leader of Egypt’s renowned animal mafia. Happily reunited, Manoj and Ant spent many years travelling the world before finally writing his magnum opus, at the age of 68, which went as follows,

“Once upon a time, there was a dog,Its name was Rover and the story’s over”.

TRUE STORY…………

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My house is located in Florida, very close to the Cape Canaveral Space Centre. Almost every week, everyone in Tampa is treated to the magnificent sight of the space shuttle lifting off. It’s no wonder then, that being an astronaut is the number one fascination for all residents of Tampa, children and adults alike.

The city of Tampa is very different from any other city that you might encounter. Everything, and I mean everything, has something to do with space. The bus routes are numbered according to shuttle missions, the restaurants serve everything from powdered sandwiches to solid fruit juices. And yes, the public restrooms do cause a certain inconvenience to the people!

One foggy Monday morning, I hopped on the STS-15 bus, like I do every day of the week. The only thing that struck me as unusual about this particular bus ride was that it wasn’t going to Spaceport High School! I pressed the pause button on my iPod, and looked around. Instead of teenagers heading to school, the whole bus was filled with men and women with extremely excited expressions on their faces.

At this point, I was a little nervous.

As I leaned forward to ask what was going on, I spotted a sign flash by my window – “NASA-Restricted Area”. The woman in front of me (her badge said ID. F3522) showed no sign of surprise when she saw a 14-year-old boy in jeans. “Sshh… we’re not supposed to talk about this mission, not even among ourselves.” I sunk quietly back

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into my seat.

Within seconds, the bus came to a halt. Curiosity kills the cat, they say. But, I’m not a cat! So, I followed F3522 out of the door. What I saw next blew the living daylights out of me! I was standing on a modified conveyor belt, moving swiftly towards a spacecraft. Not just your run-off-the-mill space shuttle, but an egg-shaped craft about the size of a three-storey building. It looked like something straight out of the Star Wars’ stable.

At this point, I was very nervous.

In the next 60 seconds, I was, without being told why, put into a spacesuit. A hermetic helmet was placed on my head. This whole process was remarkably like an assembly line. Henry Ford would have been proud!

As I entered the ship, I was greeted by a computer, and was asked for an ID card. I instinctively reached for my school ID that was in my pocket. Knowing what a stupid thing I was about to do, I placed it over the scanner. To my surprise, the red light turned green, and I was taken to the seating area. I sat down in the first empty seat I could find. Before long, everyone was securely in their place and I could feel the massive engines vibrating. In all my excitement, I forgot that I wasn’t even supposed to be here!

Then I heard the computer say – “Three…Two…O..” Before it could complete its countdown, I was thrown back into my seat with a force so great, that it almost broke my neck! In another minute, all was calm, except for a little display which read – “Mach 7.5”

At this point, I was positively terrified! Just then, everyone simultaneously got up, and started floating around! For a moment, I was dumbstruck, after which I realized that we were so far away from the earth, that gravity was no longer strong enough!

I was busy trying to float, when I heard – “Oh… it shouldn’t take more than five minutes. We are, after all, using a wormhole. We should reach Magarathea in no time.” Needless to say, those five minutes felt more like five seconds. I suddenly felt myself being pulled to the floor, and I realized that we were nearing our destination. We must have been closer than I thought, for I felt a sharp bump. I looked outside, and saw nothing but red.

We all stepped out, and I was the only one who let out an exclamation of surprise on seeing the vast, open, featureless plains of red rock. I looked back, and the ship was gone! Suddenly, everyone started running in different directions. I must say, it was a funny sight. Soon, they all disappeared from view.

“Well,” I thought, “why not do a little exploring on my own?” So I set off. Over the course of the next few hours, I discovered that Magarathea wasn’t the big, solid red ball that I had thought it to be. On the ground, tiny creatures resembling four-eyed peacocks had managed to create everything that villages on Earth would have! So, extra-terrestrial life did exist! So much for the conservative clergy of Tampa.

As I continued my exploration, I found green rivers, black trees and more peacocks. I never saw the spaceship, or any of the crew members. My spacesuit had enough air, food and water to sustain me for a week. After that, I’d have to survive on my own.

Images of Mom, Dad, Buster, my school, my Xbox and Tracy all came flooding into my mind, as I realized I would never see them again.

I silently cursed the NASA programmer, who created the security system that accepted my school ID.

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The summer sun blazed down in all its glory. It was the end of May, the beginning of the summer vacation. The house was filled with the pungent aroma of mustard and hilsa mixed with the strong sweet smell of mangoes and jackfruit. Mornings were reserved for studies but the rest of the time the children were free to do whatever they wanted. Left to themselves, they would have liked to play outside the house all the time. But after lunch, granny shoo-ed them upstairs.

“You can’t go out in this heat,” she said. Crestfallen, the children gathered around in one of the big cool bedrooms upstairs. They started to argue on what to play and a big fight ensued. Finally they all agreed to play circus; the big barred windows being ideal

for the trapeze act. Just as they started discussing who would do the trapeze act, Uncle Cho entered the room. “Hi kiddos,” Uncle Cho greeted them with a big smile. Immediately, there was a chorus of protests.

“You can’t sleep here,” Mitli said, “we are playing.”“Hey, I won’t be disturbing you...”“No, but you snore and occupy half the bed.”“I can tell you a nice story...”

This time the children dithered; it was true Uncle Cho could tell wonderful stories but they wondered whether it would be worth the risk. Uncle Cho had a reputation for falling asleep and once asleep he was really difficult to move.However the story part was too enticing and finally won them over. Uncle Cho had already anticipated this and now reclined happily on the bed with all the children gathered around him.

“So what kind of story do you want?”“A princess story,” , “no, a tiger story,” “no, no, I want to listen to a ghost story,” a cacophony of voices

shouted together. ”Okay, okay...” said Uncle Cho, “I will decide on the story.” So the story began. The room was partially dark, as the big windows were closed and the only other sound was that of the big overhead fan droning on. It was about a king and queen and their lovely daughter. As it progressed the listeners were lulled into a peaceful sense of contentment. Suddenly, they realised that the story had stopped and instead what they heard were gentle snores. “Uncle, uncle,” they started pounding him and shoving him. At last, after a determined ten minutes effort on the children’s part, Uncle Cho opened his eyes. He apologized immediately and continued with the story.

“So the fox said to the hen...”“But Uncle you were telling us a story about the princess, where did the fox and hen come from...”“O was I ? I am sorry I got confused, now that I have forgotten what story I was telling you, I will tell you a

new one about a tiger.”

Well, this story hardly lasted for five minutes before it also tapered of into gentle snores. The children were no longer interested in waking him up again so they left him sleeping peacefully and turned back to their game. Everyone wanted to be either a trapeze artist or a cyclist and a quarrel followed. It would never do to have a circus team of only trapeze artists and cyclists; they needed lion trainers, jugglers and of course a joker!

A circus without a joker was absurd. Though all of them were ready to be a lion trainer, nobody wanted to be

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the joker. How can you have a circus without a joker ? This was absolutely unheard of and they did not know how to solve the problem.

The now loud snores of Uncle Cho punctuated their discussions and they hit upon the grand idea of making Uncle Cho the joker. Why not, they reasoned, after all they could pretend the joker was not well and was therefore lying down on the stage. (The large bed happened to be their stage.)

“I will get mother’s make-up box and we can paint his face” said Tikly. So they got to work. Soon Uncle Cho had a nice painted face. His cheeks and forehead were a stark white in contrast to his dark bushy moustache, (for Uncle Cho was proud of his moustache and took good care of it) his lips were blood red and his nose was a shocking pink.

“He looks just like a circus joker now.”“Yes it’s a pity he is asleep otherwise, he could have given some performances on stage,” sighed Mitli.

Once the joker issue had been settled, everybody wanted to get on with their own performances. The lion tamer managed to find an old leather belt which he proudly swung around while standing on the old wooden dressing table. The acrobats cartwheeled across the room and stood on their hands on the stage. Everybody was really enjoying the game when they heard granny calling from the dining hall, ”Come an’ have some mangoes, children.” As they all rushed downstairs, they noticed that the sun had mellowed down and they could now go outside to play. So sucking their mangoess they ran out into the warm afternoon sun, to the playground behind their house while Uncle Cho went on sleeping peacefully upstairs.

Around five o’clock, while granny was cutting some betel nuts, she heard the creak of the front door. Looking up she saw Shankar and Ashish entering. Shankar and Ashish were Cho’s friends. “Is Cho home?” they asked politely, “we were supposed to meet him around 4-30 at the tea shop…”

“Oh Cho!” granny sighed, “he must have fallen asleep, you know his sleep! I will give him a call. Cho, Cho, wake up Shankar and Ashish are here,” she called loudly. Cho’s blissful sleep was interrupted when he heard granny calling. Jumping up, he looked at his watch. Goodness! five o’clock; he had overslept again. Pulling on a shirt he rushed downstairs. Seeing Shankar and Ashish, he started apologizing but stopped abruptly when he saw the look of bewilderment on their faces. Then they both exploded with laughter.

“What’s the matter ? Why are you two laughing so much ?” Cho grumbled. Granny looked up from her work and exclaimed “My God, Cho what have you been doing !!”. This time it was Cho who stared at all the others in bewilderment. “I was sleeping.” He said. “Well, go and look at yourself in the mirror.” Cho came down the stairs grinding his teeth, and muttering, “Those vile children, I will teach them a lesson.” By this time Shankar and Ashish had collapsed on the sofa, weak with laughter and granny thought it prudent to warn the children to keep out of Uncle Cho’s sight for the time being.

Epilogue: The word soon went round the neighbourhood especially among Uncle Cho’s friends, the narrative of Shankar and Ashish being especially colourful. This resulted in a moratorium on stories for the poor children. But after a fortnight Uncle Cho was persuaded by granny that the children were innocent, as they had never imagined the way things would turn out. Uncle Cho forgave them and resumed his wonderful stories. Finally everything returned to normal, only Uncle Cho got into the habit of peering into a mirror before going downstairs after his afternoon naps.

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I live here, in an era where my little brothers and sisters are no longer sensitive to gross massacres; an era where firing and dying brutal deaths are no longer scenes in a science fiction movie. Here I am, at the foothills of history, trying to figure out how long it will be before I tumble down without reaching the zenith.

I do my job every day. I get up every morn and keep myself busy-busy with things that are not actually everything. I do this only because I secretly want to try and forget the magnitude of the problem facing me. I try to make myself believe that this time will pass on its own, that I have nothing to contribute.

But I am in danger, my family is in danger, my home is in ruins, my soul is in shambles. Here I am, standing at the brink of extinction. I am the cause, my family is the cause and we are suffering the consequences now. The consequences of blind ignorance; the consequences of resistance to change. I may not live to tell the tale of the inarticulate human suffering to all those people who belong to a future generation.

Here I live, counting each of my precious little living moments, trying to understand why my brothers and sisters are just waiting to find a reason to kill each other. Why is this tree of life contaminated by thoughts that only the devil can conceive? Why is it that each day I wake up to Armageddon? Why do we live in this era where just one species that has claimed absolute authority over others, tries to kill and eventually die?

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As images of my little brother far away trying to find his parents in a stampede, or of that little sister who lost her dreams to a ghastly bomb-blast flood my soul, fear grips me. Fear of what may come tomorrow, fear of death, fear of destiny, fear that this note may never reach the rest of my family…

I am worried and scared because my family is splitting—my family of a billion people living here in a place I have accepted as my sole shelter in the entire universe. My home, my earth is burning into eternal nothingness. We are the origin of the flames, you and me. We are the reason why a hundred years later, nothing would remain the same here.

Let us also be the solution dear one. Because it is not just my home that is burning, it is yours too…

Dear Mom…… I remember the day I refused to sleepWhen you insisted I started to weepYou said, ”Good child! Sleep it is the end of the day”“Or the devil will carry you away.”

“But I am a grown up child ” , I said“No fear of devil can put me to bed.Let it come to me I’ll showThat I am a Complan girl, you know.”

I remember mom, you laughed and said“My little girl, you better go to bedFor if the wicked devil hears you say thatHe’d certainly go double mad.

But mom…. You never told me the devil breathed fire You never told me my little muscles could only tireYou never told me I’d be left aloneYou, papa, bhaiyya, everyone gone.

Mom see…. You lied to meThe devil didn’t take me away you seeBut if anyone challenged it, it was meThen why did it take you away ?Why not me?Mom…..I’ll never call on the devil, never.I’ll never boast that I’m strong and clever.Please come back Mom, I really miss you.I’ll go to bed promptly from today I PROMISE YOU………

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In a piece of land,There was once nothing but sand;Then came about a few intellectuals,And thought why not use this to give BE’s and duals;And so was born BITS at Hyderabad,The vision and dream so many had had;A section of youth came bustling along,To make this their home and memories for lifelong;Teens from all over the country,Each unique and talented and knowledge hungry;It was a crowd like none other,For each had come on their own merit and bother;Days went by & as the autumn wind blew along,Shone a pearl, clear and long;The first ever cultural fest,A culmination of music, dance drama and jest;Sports, photography, literature, art,You name it and we did it with all heart;And before we knew it,The first sem had ended, and BITS was a rocking hit;Back we came, fresh as the January dew,The things we didn’t do were very few;A science day to celebrate the geniuses,A literary fest to enjoy the magic of clauses;A trip to Goa, a visit to waves,Made us proud and got us reviews rave;A holi celebration so full of colours,That even the bravest on campus had to take detours;A Dramatics week, filled with drama, scripts and streetplay,Was nothing short of an expert display;So to the people of the world I would like to say,That BITS Hyderabad is alive and kicking, and here to stay.

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I walked down that familiar laneWatching the place where I grew up.From the deepest depths of my heartI felt intense pain.As the memories I long chose to lock up,Of age-old laughter and hurt,Came back to me one by one…… Clear open green meadows,Vast cloud-streaked blue skies,Long relaxing swims below the bows,Above all the early morning sunrise.I saw them all.I felt them all.But I knew.I knew that they’d never be the same again.Not without you my friend……

I remember those innocent childhood days,As we grew up together in this peaceful place.We shared our joys and tears,Confided in each other our deepest fears.I didn’t care for anything.With you, I knew I’d conquer everything.But you went away to the army.And things were never the same…. For your country, you left to fightLeaving me alone in the now harsh sunlightI stand here outside your doorStaring at your coffin lying on the floorAs tears trickle down my face.I yearn to look at your faceAnd say I’m sorry ……….. I’m sorry my friend For all the meaningless times we foughtFor all that could have been, but was notFor when I ignored your passionAnd ignorantly refused to support your decisionYou wanted to serve your countryBut you left me alone and I was angry….. Now I stare at the early morning sunriseAt the cloud-streaked blue skiesI stand in the green meadowLooking at a magnificent rainbowI think of all the good timesAnd I know…… I know that it will never be the same againWe can’t just laugh together and sing my friendNow that you’re gone awayFar from my reach, far awayWhere I can never reach you Or ever hope to speak with youI long to see your face once more my friendTo tell you I’m sorryI’m sorry…………I wish it had been me and not you…

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Woke up. Damn! It’s a real bad odour. Where’s that bag of bananas I threw somewhere in the corner of the room…some days ago? Couldn’t find it as I tried to look at my watch shouting at me, calling me names, ‘move your butt dude, it’s 8, late for the open book test’. Tried to search for my brush somewhere over the desk, and found a bunch of newspapers, oil cases, my soap, the mug, the Godrej shaving kit, but the tooth brush was still a mystery. Fine, rose up to the shelves to get a new one from my bag. Mama told me to keep it for emergencies. Emergency indeed, it was the decision of a ‘maybe B’ or a ‘perfect C’ in the subject.

Next was the toothpaste. I opened the drawer, from which came out a bundle of assignments, handouts, supplementary sheets in subjects of which I had no idea. Looking at my supplementary sheets, I got carried away for a precious 30 seconds, just to brood on silly mistakes I repeat every time.

Resuming my mission, I headed for drawer no.2 from which came out my ID card, Library card, pens, calculator, mess bills and other prominent proofs of my identity as a student. When the drawers gave their answers, I resorted to the cupboard, which was no less than a kindergarten mess.

No idea where my toothpaste was hiding…cupboard was a cocktail of ropes and rags…some previous sem books and some half empty jars. My shoes made their presence felt with their fragrant aroma to everyone who

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visited my room. My feet, predictably, got entangled in the LAN wire and I fell face-down on the room floor , to find my beloved belt hiding under my bed.

Chiru defied Newton’s laws – I defied Stephen Hawking’s by dry cleaning in the briefest time. Coming back to my room, I had to dress and put the required books in my bag for the exam (open book dude). My cupboard got badly hurt as I pulled my jeans on and lost control of my legs for a while. Quickly finished with the dress and cream, then realized that I had lent one of my much needed books to a friend of mine.

Sighing, I locked the door, and a sense of déjà vu washed over me as I thought:

“I’ll clean my room today.”

Today I took a girl for a dateShe was, as usual, very lateBut that's in every man's fateAnd this I will reiterate

The food was indeed very fineBut her mind would not toe my lineShe liked other places to dineDidn't think highly, of choices of mine

Wasn't opening her mouth to talkShe was sitting as though in mockShe didn't even come for a walkWas too eager to buy my stock

Out of my fashion, was her dressHer 'new' shoes were no lessShe was very ugly, I must confessAnd this, I will again stress

She was not a bit alrightThis I could tell at first sightShe was a fussy as a kiteSo I decided to show her the door's light.

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For the uninitiated, Feni is a drink. A drink that makes you woozy. I mean, very woozy. And before you raise your eyebrows and question me, let me tell you. No, I haven’t tried it. And I don’t exactly plan to.

But onward with the story.

The thing is, Goa is cool and hip and a little crazy. And that attitude is found in the BITSians there. I mean right from the shorts and the skirts to their attitude towards life. Cool. No worries. No fretting. If something is bothering you, either change it or accept it. No go betweens.

Their campus is beautiful. It’s like a resort. You can see the Zuari river cascading gracefully down towards the sea. And there are flowers and red tiled roofs reminiscent of Stanford architecture. There is a fabulous ice-cream parlour, Ice and Spice. Yep, Goa has, (sorry for the clichéd bit) arrived. They are happy. And they have great spunk and verve in them.

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Their after-event parties are on the beach. But I don’t think there’s any Feni there. Coz the parties are insti approved, get it? But don’t think of the BITS-Goa guys as people who don’t know what’s good for them. They have amazingly geeky scholars -- Microsoft student representatives and all of that. They have a wonderful dance club that churns out amazing performances day after day. And great musicians who can sing any genre with ease. When they perform in that awesome audi, time slows down. Relativistic phenomenon, if I’ve got my Physics right. And when there’s a fest, the whole campus is out there, doing something.

Seriously guys, it’s time we adopt a feni-on-the-beach policy here. Time we chill a little, bond more with each other and start a mini renaissance kind of thing on our campus. And once we do that, we can always laze around in the sand and waves (OK, on the rocks, I get it!) with a glass of something (refer title for more)……

I see a cup, Half empty I now see the cupHalf full The brown waters in the cupSwerve and swirl with indignationThey feel the emptinessOf the half-full cup

I can see your cupLanguishing in its emptinessWanting to be filledWaiting to be filled

Before the brown Collapses into the black of isolationComeLet us fill it

Let us spread the joy Of having cups that are fullAnd brimming with joy

Let us spread the joyAnd feel the pulseOf deliriumIn having a full cup at last (Dedicated to NIRMAAN and to the kids of labourers on campus, who go hungry much too often)

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A teacher by choice, while trying to fulfill my responsibility of giving the right questions to students, I’m myself often engulfed by thoughts and questions that the teacher in me constantly battles with.

The following is an account of these thoughts and questions through the pen of a teacher.

The teacher in me is overwhelmed by the amount of energy, enthusiasm and drive that the students have, and sincerely wishes them to be channelized in the right direction. Nothing seems impossible if they set their minds to it. The teacher in me has often been a witness to many such success stories.

The teacher in me is often amazed at the maturity shown by some young minds, which clearly defies their age and exhibits their extraordinary strength of character. Grooming such minds as future pillars of the society is the most satisfying and pleasurable experience for the teacher in me.

The teacher in me feels helpless on seeing the misguided and confused lot of students who waste their talent, health and time seeking trivial pleasures without focusing on their larger goal. The teacher in me is disturbed by the new breed’s casual attitude, indiscipline and the disrespect that they show to their elders. At these times, the teacher in me wants desperately to guide and correct them and any means to that end seem acceptable.

The teacher in me abhors the apathy shown by the students towards some courses. Preconceived notions mar their thirst for knowledge and prevent them from enjoying and envisaging the depths of these subjects. Painstaking efforts to kindle their interest and showcase the beauties of the subject go in vain. The teacher in me wishes students to have a more open mind for acquisition of knowledge and utilize every opportunity available to them.

The teacher in me often dreams about the success of the students and expects them to bear the torchlight of humanity in future as academicians, CEOs, politicians. Such dreams when fulfilled create a sense of pride and the teacher in me feels all the years of hard work have borne fruit.

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The teacher in me also realizes the greater responsibility of being a role model for the young minds and treads every step and takes every decision with this cause in mind.

Last but not the least, the teacher in me knows that the noble profession I have chosen creates lifelong bonds with thousands of students, whom I have met along this journey and I am extremely lucky to have guided and interacted with such wonderful children to whom we have been friends and guardians in their abode called BPHC.

My heart flutters,An army of foes march upon me.I grip my sword, hold my breath ....I lift my head & hold it high for if I must die,Then I shall so with dignity.

I meet my foes strong and mightyI fend off blows, I hold my ground ...I try to stand tall & strongTo win and win over themAnd to dispel the gloom.

What's this ?My strength is loosenedMy hopes are fadingThey march on meTheir swords pressed at my throat...My life held by a slender thread.

Hanging from the edge I think.....The foes are just in headBut there is nothing I can do...!!!!

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And the Award goes to..............Dr Kalam. “A paper boy goes on to become the president of the country." If you are a movie buff, this might sound like a sequel to the Oscar winning "Slumdog Millionaire" but it is an extract from the life of an ordinary man with extra ordinary will power, and our hero is none other than India's former president Dr Kalam. This man has not only revolutionised the Indian army by shaping out nuclear weapons, he's also sketched a missile stuffed with knowledge to wipe out illiteracy from India. In tenure as a president of India, he catalysed the thoughts of his fellow citizens to think and work for the country. Despite being a missile man himself he followed one of the oldest tricks in the book . "A pen is mightier than a sword". It was quite successful because he was able to ignite the minds of the youth across the globe with his book "Ignited Minds" and fired all the wingless thoughts that would go nowhere to change them into constructive actions with his autobiography 'Wings Of Fire'. There may be many Aishwaryas and Dhonis in this world, but you can rarely find a wizard like Kalam , who scored the hearts of millions, solely by using his intellect as his audience is dumb folded and the list of his power continues....

On a lighter note, in today's world where people are obsessed with fashion, where one tries to fit into Ronaldo's clothes, wants to have Beckham's haircut and Angelina Jolie's smile, Abdul Kalam was, is and will always be different from others. He makes his own style statement. His hairstyle has been the talk of adults and children alike.

With the IPL fever catching on and many of you vouching for your favourite teams, be it the Deccan chargers, the Rajasthan Royals, whosoever it might be, a small reminder for everyone out there, you can be a part of a team lead by Dr Kalam (though from the backstage), it most definitely does not play cricket. He is imagining illiteracy,

poverty as a ball and is trying to fling it all away and far away from India to win the match titled 'Vision 2020'. Be a part of this team and you can cheer India to heights. Finally, in gratitude to my ideal star, I just wish that his dream of an Indian landing on the Mars and from there, watching pretty India radiating with cent percent literacy and zero poverty comes true.

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