I Just had a Zabar-DUS BITotsav

In our first year, when we were still scared and ragged little minnows, we went to do BITotsav work for FAS. BITotsav was just another word then but Anuj Bhiyya, the then FAS presi, sat with us and explained what it was all about. He said, BIT really comes to life during BITotsav, hundreds of events happening all over the place. Anyone in their first year should participate in it.
That was enough to encourage us. Overnight we collected people, prepared posters and next day team ZabarDUS was in the battlefield. We battled it for three days with the intro skit, the events and finally reached core night.
Back then, we shrugged off things like ’pauua’. We just gave our best and after a tough battle came fourth. The whole four day process was so enjoyable that we never gave loosing a second thought. All we knew was that we were better equipped for the next year.
In our second year, we launched into the battlefield with a strategy. We knew the events and the rules they are played with inside out. We qualified into the core night with maximum points. That year core night was sacrificed for a greater good and we accepted it graciously. End of story.
By the time you reach third year, the rut begins to set in. every thing has a ‘been there-done that’ tag attached to it. So when BITotsav’08 was announced the ex team members failed to show the required enthusiasm. However destiny plays its game in strange ways. One day before BITotsav, I was sitting in front of the canteen with someone we lovingly call butru and a couple of my classmates. Publicity had begun…..teams were putting posters; people were shouting slogans…..the fever was spreading and we were its first major victims.
‘We have to form a team’
‘Four days in campus, during bitotsav, without participation is too much for me to bear’
‘We have played this game for three years now, let’s end it with a win’

Enough words for us to spring into action…….
Old flexes, chart papers, thermo cols and paints were promptly arranged and enthusiastic archis sprang into action. Three hours of work in the design studio amid a great deal of excitement and confusion, resulted in two giant sized posters that were carried to the canteen at 4 pm amidst drums beating, cheering et al. the poster read ‘ ZabarDUS….kuch yaad aaya?!”
Intro skit went extremely well, even though we were shooed off the stage for exceeding the time limit. However, during the lunch break, we performed the whole skit again, not for points but for the people who wanted to see a ZabarDUS skit!!!
First day of events did not go well. We were overconfident and disorganized. Events that we were known for winning slipped out of our hands. At the end of the day we were chided by our well wishers and we decided to pull up our socks.
Second day was magic. Audi and Binnie, our two team managers, ruffled and shuffled us between events with amazing efficiency. At the end of day two, ZabarDUS was not only back in the game…..it was leading with over 30 points!!!!!
Core nights are stuff college memories are made of. Our skit, on the theme Yaaron ki Yaari’ had the core roaring with laughter. Our fashP was on the theme Black and what it meant to us. We interpreted it as ‘ Black it was……black it prevailed…..and black it will be’. A mixture of evil, sensuous and funny depictions of the colour kept the audience interested till the very end. Punch was handled by our butru as was Mr. BITotsav with Anu supporting on the Miss BITotsav end.
When it was all over and the results were being tabulated, the CAT echoed with our team’s name……….ZabarDUS…..zabarDUS……zabarDUS. We knew then, no matter what the end result, we had won. Ten crazy first years who had started this journey had finally arrived.
And win we did! The whole CAT broke in applause and cheers, the entire archi was on stage……and we were all happy beyond words.
Many years from now, when I will look back on my college days I will proudly recollect the doings of ZabarDUS…….the highs and lows and finally the unforgettable win…..


PS----

Things I learnt-

i) There is nothing as ‘Pauua’. After three years of active life in the college, it is inevitable to know the Presis and the organizers. And if you do well, things are bound to turn into your favor.
ii) Without superb and experienced managers, the team fails miserably
iii) All events, formal as well as informal, must be attacked with equal zeal. In the end, every point counts
iv) ZabarDUS was never about just 10 people. It was about all friends who helped us get to the end with brush-strokes on our posters, lines in our debate, costumes for our skits and cheering on the final day. You made the whole experience special. Thank you.

A Valentine’s Day letter…….



Dearest Ija,

It’s February and love is in the air. Girls and boys are busy finding ways of expressing their undying love for each other. And here I am, thinking about you…..
Laws of nature tell us that life is all about moving on. Grow up, find a job, find a man, start a family and renew the cycle of life. But thank God for love!!!
The love that still makes you think about the comfort of your son before you go to sleep every night. The love that makes me sad when I think of my mother in an empty house. The love of my father who keeps filling my bank account lest I should need something. The love that comes from sharing the same house and life for eighteen years with your siblings. The love of aunts and uncles who spoil you with treats……
My love for you that comes from years of playing on your lap, from learning the alphabets off your tongue, from eating food off your hands, from the warmth of the sweaters you knit for me, from your sweet smell that filled my nostrils each night we cuddled together, from the long discussions we had about Mahatma Gandhi and Harry Potter….
If 14th February be a celebration of love then, Lady, I salute you and I salute our love!!!

Yours always,
Neelakshi

(Ija is the Kumaoni word for mother. Strangely, I always addressed my grandmother as Ija)

A month on the road……………

There is more wisdom in a mile of walking than in one hundred books.....

Well, going by that, I should be a pundit exuding knowledge from every pore of my body. The month of December was crazy! I walked, drove and rode thousands of kilometers across the length and breadth of the country finally to land back at my perch here at room 73.

It all began when I boarded a train at Banaras with 50 other ghanchakkars bound for Agra. Now traveling with 50 people can be quite an experience because there is never a dull moment. We did it all, from playing antakshari, singing bhajans, reciting Kabeer ke dohe, enacting Shakespere to conducting elaborate weddings! At Agra, we stayed in the cheapest of hotels, ate the most awful food, but had a blast visiting the Taj and Fatehpur Sikri. The monument of love did not inspire any awe because the moment was lost with thousands of tourists pushing and pulling to get their picture taken in front of it. At Agra fort, we got mesmerized by the shayaree our senile guide presented rather than the monument. Arz kiya hai……” shamma bekar hai agar ujaala na ho……husn bekaar hai agar chahnewala na ho”.

Next stop was Jaipur. We saw it all, from the world’s largest canon to the palace of nine queens. Watching a movie at Rajmandir was an experience as the hall has no equals when it comes to creating ‘movie magic’. Chauki Dhani, a resort village in the outskirts of Jaipur was where we had hukka, ate a 22course Rajasthani meal, feasted on chooran and had a jyotish whisper in my ear,”you’ll never settle in life!”(damn!shud have listened to him).

Then our troupe’ made a long journey to Jaisalmer, the far off desolate desert city. From there on a speeding Sumo (driven by yours truly!) we went to Sam, a village 40km from Jaisalmer. The camel safari was good, albeit a bit shaky! Then we joined in with the locals for a night of dance and music. Driving back from Sam, on the isolated desert road, is something none of is going to forget in a hurry.
At Jaisalmer, we also visited the only living fort in India, puffed some more hukka and spent a long evening shopping in the by-lanes.

By now, Rajasthan was getting to us, so for a change, we went off to Ahmedabad! Remembering that we were after all on a study tour, we went to CEPT, IIM, Apollo and finally Sangath, B.V Doshi’s office.
Not that we did not have fun. Mornings were spent munching on dhokla and the evenings roaming in the malls.

We re-entered Rajasthan to visit Udaipur. The beauty of its lake and palaces left us spellbound! We would have stayed longer but we were out of money so we decided to head home…..
At Delhi, where we broke our journey, guys and girls sat together and sobbed to Tare Zzameen Pe and later in the evening got lost in Chandani Chauk.
For most the journey ended there, they could rest their tired feet at home before joining in for the next semester. But for me, there was still a lot more to come!
When I got down at Banaras, my parents said that I had to join them for a week in the hills. So began the road journey to Almora. We met up with Gullu, Smira and her parents. The journey did not stop here. Our final destination was Munshiari, 270km from Almora. The twists and turns of the road took us two days to reach there. Yes, I saw snow after a long time. Gullu made us trek to far off places, up…up….up….we cursed him but there is nothing like the view from the top!!!
The high of this trip was probably seeing two naked sadhus, sitting amidst snow and smoking chillum!!!!
Alas! I had to break the journey and return to B.I.T. after all, it had been a month. So, after four days of traveling I was back. Its around one in the morning now and I am sitting hunched over my comp, googling out the next trip…..this time its gonna be spring fest at IIT, Kharagpur!!!!!

VIEWS OF COMMERCIAL COMPLEX @ RANCHI..........................

commercial center..............................

it's been a while.............

here is what i have been doing..............

this is the tee shirt design for this year's ZONASA...................

and these are views for a tourist information kiosk for Jharkhand designed keeping in mind the local art and building forms......................

coming soon................

Ranchi's highest appartment building & mall........................

Lovin’ it


When a regular folk walks into a restaurant what does he see and think? “Great ambience, pretty chic, hope the food is good.” But what do you say about a person whose brain buzzes thus, “ hmmm mosaic floor pattern, gypsum board false ceiling, diffused lighting, 2m passageway, hope they let me into the kitchen to see the service flow.” Well this is an architectural student in love with his field.

When you begin your life as an architecture student it’s all very hazy. Some come from families where everyone is in the profession, some are good with handwork and were cajoled by relatives to give architecture a try and most wanted to be engineers but landed up here because of a lower rank in the entrance exam. Whatever be the story, nobody knows were they are going. To mix-up things even more they see the sheets made by their seniors and sink into the gallows of depression-----the task not only seems difficult but impossible.

But as we turn in our registration slips each one of us is endowed with a special something. It is something equivalent to Shiva’s third eye. Let’s call it our architectural eye. It is a 6th sense which makes us see, feel, hear, smell and experience architecture and architecture alone.

For some it happens in the first lecture when the professor talks about the ‘noble’ profession they have chosen, for some on a field trip when they see their work in the real world, for some in a sociology class when they realize it goes beyond concrete and mortar, for some when they read Fountainhead, for some in a design problem they give their body, heart and soul to and for some unfortunate souls it never happens at all.

Once awoken the passion for architecture is all consuming. You will never see a gate without noticing the details, never a drain pipe without tracing it back to the toilet it came from, never walk through a space without reading rhythm, harmony, balance written all over it. You will wake up in the middle of the night to experiment new things on your butter sheet; you will close your eyes and experience your creation. Days will be spent on the drawing board without food and water and without a word of complain or fatigue from you. When this day comes you will become a true architect.

MEMORIES OF SECOND YEAR…..

So you fell in love with the damn place. What can you do? The heart has a strange way of its own! You go back after a two month break and it all seems so beautiful. You get a funny tinkle in you stomach when you get down at the station. The auto walas increased their price again. Then comes the blessed BIT more. The gates of the placed you cursed last time seem like the very gates of paradise and guards like cute angels. You drop off the boys in their hostel. Its five in the morning, the guard is sleeping and you decide to go in. the one and only time you get to go inside H-6 and see those rooms. Double rooms for boys…..about half the size of the single rooms that girls have in h-8. tut tut. Some boys in their towels run for cover at the unexpected sight of a girl.
Happy? Had your fun? Got your kick? Good! Now you head to your own den. The sight of your friends makes you very happy. Oh! How you missed these rascals. Some are coming in form the station and some are gearing up to move to H-9. Ah! You almost forgot…..you gotta change your hostel. Leave the comforts of h-8, the super clean bathrooms and single rooms and move to h-9……it’s what some girls call going to sasuraal while others say it’s moving into the real world.
Well all that registration drama happens and you loose some running around and then gain some hogging in the canteen. The “ get-together-for-another-great-semester” thing. Even that food seems good!
All this love-shmuv lasts a week or so. Honeymoon over! You get back into the grinds. The schedule of everyday life takes over. All the ‘ I’ll learn Spanish this semester’ or ‘I’ll learn to tap-dance’ is replaced by the more realistic ‘I’ll submit my assignment on time……hopefully’.
All things are similar to last time……except……there are some new kids on the block…2K6! You see that just girls ,girls and girls…..that new reservation thing. Few of your friends, the ones in the limelight, have a tough time accepting that the limelight has now shifted……it’s about the kids now. We old guns otta move out and enjoy the show! And its quite a show…..the same courtship games, the same ups and down in the fests, the same hoo-haa about 9 pointers………you see it all. The game is the same….only the faces change. And thank god they do!
Then you get to see that the new chicks are about substance too. They call up GP when you go to rag ‘em! Hells Bells! Oh! How you love ‘em and wish you had that kinda guts………..
Elsewhere a lunatic cooks up the idea of THiNK and lures you in. it’s fun….starting a magazine from scratch. You learn and un-learn a lot of things along the way. You attend meeting where nothing logical is ever discussed and all the real decision are taken over phone. Well all is done and you are waiting to see the first edition sometime soon.
Then your beloved BITotsav ’07 happens. All goes well as long as 2k3 toes the line but how much can a man take? When the goons flex a muscle or two the guys decide they’ve had just about enough. They hand over the keys and say try running the show you old guns! It all falls to pieces when they leave. For the first time it was students against the administration, en mass. Nothing happened and nothing changed but at least they tried. You and all others you know ain’t forgetting Kranti ’07 in a hurry…..

Other things were more or less the same and as the session draws to a close you start cribbing again. You hate the damn place. What with all the rules and regulations…..the in-time, the dull life…..sheesh! You gotta get out and fast…..

Right now you are sitting at home, away from the monster and what is your prime occupation? You visit it’s group on orkut, you check out the forum, you hop and skip on the blog of fellow BITians and right now you are writing about it.

Strange are the ways of the heart…………………

My Buddhi Bahadur Strongest


It began in Dagshai, a small town lost somewhere in the mist of Himanchal Pradesh. We lived in an old lonely house on an old lonely hill. My parents were at work all day long and at parties all night long. The little gaps of time thus created were filled by Buddhi Bahdur. This brings us to the question….Who is Buddhi Bahadur?

He is a resident of Nepal who served in the Indian army for the past 25 years, fought many wars and is finally retiring and going back home. But when he was in Dagshai with us he did a few other things as well. He was our nanny and one hell of a nanny was he!

In the evenings he took us bird hunting. My brother, being elder, got to handle the gun whereas I was assigned the task of spotting and recovering the prey. Later in the evening we used to sit outside the house and roast the birds and eat them semi cooked. Nothing can taste that good!]

He never stopped us from pillow fighting each other to death, from keeping weird pets (hens, chicks, bats, and owls) or anything that made us truly happy. But he was strict about getting dressed for school at time, polished shoes and impeccable uniforms.

I’ve heard he was a fearless soldier and has served in Kashmir for a long time but there is another side to his personality as well. In Dagshai, he used to live in the mortal fear that the alleged ‘Maim ka Bhoot’ will come and get him. So often we would find him at our door at two in the morning, covered in sweat because he had a feeling that the ghost was calling out his name!

He has the tiniest hands and feet and the gentlest tone when speaking. He played all our games, listened to our tearful tales, cured all the boo-boos and sang us to sleep. This same man was an ace shooter, a platoon leader and a meritorious soldier. I salute him and the many roles he played and played so well!

CHICKEN IS MADE IN VARIOUS STEPS..........WHICH I DISCOVERED ONE AFTERNOON IN THE MESS KITCHEN...........
.

Why THiNK………….

First think about your web-life. Has it not changed rapidly? You no longer mail friends…..you drop by scraps. Your photos are up for display to the world. You have suddenly started preferring random videos on YOUtube to chat shows with famous personalities. Where do you go looking for information, not Britannica but wikipedia. Firefox and Linux spreading like wildfire. And the biggest one of ‘em all……THE BLOG.

WHY?

Because, as Time magazine suggests, the spotlight has shifted to YOU. We don’t want to listen to the general on a news channel briefing us about the situation on the warfront when we have a soldier pouring his heart out on a blog.

We don’t want one professionally made movies anymore……some moron with a camera filming an average day in his dorm seems much more interesting.

We don’t want telephone calls or even e-mails when social networking rocks.

GLORIFYING MEDIOCRACY???

Are bloggers just a bunch of wannabe writers doling out crap about non-consequential things? Should a regular Joe be allowed to tamper with the baap of all information- the encyclopedia? What is so good about the amateurish video clips the world is going crazy about?

I SAY,NO

Because blogs, wikipedia, YOUtube and the gazillion social networks are not trampling upon the already existing ways of information interchange. They are carving a new space for themselves, an alternative. And like it or not everybody riding this wave( now officially called WEB 2.0….though nothing official about it!) is lovin’ it. We have lived linearly too long relying on a bunch of specialists to tell us what we know or do. Its time for a different perspective.

CHANGE

Maybe it’s time when the junta jumps up from the ‘ people’s poll’ corner of the newspaper and spreads to the pages.

BUT, WHY AM I WRITING THIS?

Because bitrip and now THiNK are both a part of this phenomenon. I might now recognize many of my fellow BITians on the road but I get a peek into what they think and do from their blogs. Calvin and Hobbes may tickle me a lot but it is an altogether different experience to read a comic strip about the life around me done by someone living in the adjacent hostel. A book on famous one-liners may be good but it cannot beat the nonsensicality of H4ism. News channels with hundreds of investigating teams blew up the death of a student here but Rhea’s simple observation and remembrance was closer to the truth.

So….START THiNKing but don’t forget to open the lid of your head when you do so that the world can peek in.

COME and be a part of the first THiNK forum/meeting/briefing/celebration on 24^th January……

BECAUSE it’s time ME AND YOU took over.

FISHY....VERY FISHY

My Cousin Rachel and other stories………..

In the winter of 1999, lying on a charpai, under a blanket, on Mrs. Jha’s terrace in Patna, I read Rebecca. It thrilled my very core and chilled my spirits. The ghost of Rebecca haunted me wherever I went. The line ‘we found her’ echoed in my head. The shadows of Drogheda mansion loomed large on my life. For days I excitedly related the story to Sarmishtha in class, lessons be damned! I bowed to the genius that was Daphnai du Maurier.
In 2002 I read Jane Eyre. Again the same reaction took place. The cruel orphanage, the huge dark mansion, the mad lady locked in the room. Ah! It killed me. Again I bowed to Charlotte Bronte`.
In 2004 I read Wuthering Heights. The ghost of Catherine Lintol Earnshaw took over. In the maddening heat of summer I felt the chill. The pure evil of man’s soul was laid bare and ‘infernal lads’ danced in my head. It was witchcraft and this Bronte` sister knew how to perform it.
Few days back I finished My Cousin Rachel. The setting is the same as is the intent but the witchcraft is gone. The chill begins but does not reach the deepest recesses of one’s heart. The burning of Drogheda mansion seems appropriate but when cousin Rachel dies falling off a scaffolded area it seems too deliberate. This genre of writing….whatever it is called…. is very powerful provided the author knows how to play with it.
I am looking forward to another novel that ‘scares the living spirits outa me’ and makes me a devout yet again……any suggestions??

TAG ON........

here is something i came across while prying through some blogs. being tagged means you have to reveal 5 things about yourself that nobody knows. Thereafter you can tag 5 more people and watch them shed skin...........
so here goes.......
1. I am majorly hung over my childhood( class 5-6). I can never get over the good times and the friends i had then can cannot stop mourning that life will never be the same again.
2. I love needlework. I was in awe of my needlework teacher....sister Mona...and worshipped the groung under her feet.
3. I smoked my first ciggie in class 8..........and got caught by my mom in class 10.
4. till the age of three i thought my nani was my mother and my mother just another lady relative.
5. i want to come across a great fortune and spend the rest of my days in the hills. i hate planes.....


i further tag Rhea, Audi.....yuk i can't think of any more.........

Our continued discussion on Desiree and everlasting love……

“Nothing lasts forever and we both know hearts can change,
And it’s hard to hold a candle in the cold November rain.”………guns and roses

Dear Don……..
Napoleon loved Desiree and it was very nice while it lasted. After moving to Paris he made a different choice. He married Josephine…..why? Because he thought it was the best thing for him to do. Maybe he thought that Desiree was not fit for the journey he was about to embark. Yes, he broke her heart but did it for the best. Maybe his way of doing it was wrong but the motive was not wrong.
He, in the course of his life, turns to her again and again. I don’t think it is out of love but something nobler…..friendship. The friends of our young days can somehow understand us more than anybody else.
Why is it that we choose to shun practicality when it comes to love? Why must we always associate it with great sacrifice and suffering? Why can’t we enjoy it while it lasts and the set it free? Why can’t we digest the fact that it can not be everlasting always? If it lasts…good, if it doesn’t….good enough…….
What say you??
Yours always
Capo

Writing all this reminds me of the conversation I had a few days back about the dwindling of a certain ‘utopian idea’…..a certain pact. If you are reading this Sir, I want to say sorry. I identify with Napoleon in strange ways. Six years is a long time and the memories and bonds formed cannot be zapped into nothingness, especially when they were so good. Yes, some things have changed but please let the others remain……..

Daddy Long Legs
JEAN WEBSTER

Jerusha Abbot is a girl brought up in an orphanage. She can’t believe her luck when a trustee decides to sponsor her college education. However, she has to report her progress to him through letters. He is not obliged to write back or acknowledge them in any form. So the story of this girl is brought forward through numerous one sided letters to this man she calls Daddy Long Legs because she had only seen his shadow once cast against a wall and he appeared to have very long legs like Daddy Long Legs …..
Jerusha finds a way in this new world through hard work and learning and goes on to become a great author. In the end the identity of the mysterious benefactor is revealed which is quite a let down but overall it’s a good book…..a very good book

Some memorable lines….

Don't you think it would be interesting if you really could read the story
of your life--written perfectly truthfully by an omniscient author?
And suppose you could only read it on this condition: that you
would never forget it, but would have to go through life knowing
ahead of time exactly how everything you did would turn out,
and foreseeing to the exact hour the time when you would die.
How many people do you suppose would have the courage to read it
then? or how many could suppress their curiosity sufficiently
to escape from reading it, even at the price of having to live
without hope and without surprises?

Life is monotonous enough at best; you have to eat and sleep about
so often. But imagine how DEADLY monotonous it would be if nothing
unexpected could happen between meals. Mercy!

Desiree…..
Annemarie Selinko

Desiree is the story of a silk merchant’s daughter told through diary entries. Hmm….what makes it so famous then? Well, this girl just happens to be Napoleon’s girlfriend. He leaves her to marry someone with money and power. Desiree Clary chalks the path of her own life which has many ups and downs which make for interesting reading. The link that these two established as young people lingers all their lives and they come to rescue each other often enough.
Finally she becomes the Queen of Sweden and Napoleon dies in exile. The most heart wrenching moment is their last meeting when she goes to him as the queen of Sweden and asks him to surrender. They sat on the same bench they used to as lovers and he gives her his sword……

BOY NEXT DOOR................

I’ve heard people( by that I mean forwarded mails) say that if you look back at life and find even 4 people that you can call friends then you’ve had a pretty successful life. I mentioned two (Undertaker, Bull Dog) earlier in my blog, now I talk of the third and last one. I fondly called him Harry Potter……..

It had been a strange introduction. Actually there was never any formal introduction at all. He just walked into my garden one afternoon to fetch his cricket ball. We started talking, ‘we are neighbors after all’, he said. Before I realized we were discussing Harry Potter at length. I looked up at his face and realized that he LOOKED a lot like Harry Potter too.
We used to play cricket in the park, climb trees (“Ms Joshi you tend to forget that you are a girl”), swim and talk about books, movies and his favorite topic….NFS. We picnicked by the fish pond, slept on machans and with the help of Rishab even watched porn together. Slowly as most of our mutual friends got posted out of Varanasi, we became each others only ‘source of entertainment’. So often I have slipped into his house at night just to exchange a few CDs and so often he has slipped into mine. Each time he said, “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
Another magical thing about this magical boy was the power he exercised over my dog. Touching Mia means getting three anti- rabies shots, but this boy had him singing to his tune. He took him for walks, played with him and even got him back home when he ran away. Maybe his trump was Misha, his dog, the only dog Mia ever respected.
Today he lives in a different city and I live in a jungle but we still chat over yahoo sometimes or exchange a few mails. Yes, he mails me cooking books sometimes and says that I better learn how to cook or I’ll never find a decent guy. But the best thing is there is no compulsion of talking or communicating. It is all very laid back. If we talk its cool if we don’t its just as cool. Mr. Potter thanks for being yourself and thanks for brightening up my days when I most needed it…………………….

Its gender is not externally perceptible so I cannot say if mademoiselle is a mademoiselle or if monsieur is a monsieur so lets just be politically incorrect and call it ‘it’.

It happens to be a new fish I kept…..and it is fondly called Suji because it only eats suji. With a more generous provider it could have had colourful fish food and have an even sillier name.

Suji moved into my room two weeks back and now lives in its goldfish bowl. No, Suji is not a goldfish but hails from the Subarnrekha. It is not a NRI but a localite.

One day a bong friend of mine came in an observed it for a long time and then said thoughtfully, “You know, this fish would be perfect for fillets”. These bongs are crazy…. crazy about fish.

Initially Suji hated me and I considered a forced responsibility but now our attitudes have softened up a bit. Suji swims happily in the bowl and I put in my hand and play with it sometimes (thankfully its not a Piranha).

So go ahead keep a pet…..be it a rabbit you steal from the Pharmacy dept. or a dog you pick up from the road…….it’s an experience worth having…….

Are you an incurable epicure stuck in BIT? Did you know that the gooey mess food does to your elementary canal what a fag does to your lungs?? How often can you eat in the canteen, you rich brat??? How long does the home achaar and tit-bits last ???Its time to take control…

Here is a quickie you can make and survive the BIT food…

LEMON-CHILI PICKLE::

i) Steal good quantities of lemon, chilies, salt, red chili powder and some black pepper if you can manage it.

ii) Take the old achaar jar that your mom had given you (clean it if you have the enthu) and put in the lemon pieces wrapped in salt, green chili pieces, red chili powder and pepper.

iii) Keep this in the sun for at least five days.

Note- don’t be judicious with the quantity of ingredients…its all from your mess bill.

Now this is not particularly tasty but what it does is numbs your mouth so you don’t actually mind the food that much.

It’s worth a try…for free sample all you need to do is ask me………….