vox populi

Vox PopuliNIT Calicut, 2016

1DirectorDr. Sivaji Chakravorti

Dean, Students' WelfareDr. G. Unnikrishnan

Staff EditorDr. Vinod Pathari

Chief Student EditorJacob Tony

Joint EditorsFasal MT

Harikrishnan PNanditha Unnikrishnan

Athira Sivadas

Senior EditorsAishwarya MaruvadaAnupama Surendran

Aswin MenonAvinash Bora

Chandra Sekhar SastryFaris Ahamad

Gauri LalJaseem Veluthedath

Joffy VargheseJohn Kurian

Mahipal Singh KulariaMohammed SwalahNamitha Krishnan

Nayanthara BalakrishnanPooja Nair

Priyanka NairSaad Syed

Sabah MohammedSafia Bahas

Sreekanth GopalanSuchith Chandran

Sudha Rani Helshet

Junior EditorsSreeraj

Akshay KannolyParikshith Anupama

AfzelAkshaye AP

Swetha PN Sneha

Gayathri RameshVijay Gopal

Adil MuhammadDilna DasMariyam

Rahul SebastianKarthik M

Muhammed Irfan VHanz M Antony

VinayFathima Sahla

Arjun NarayananAshwini Ravindran

Chandana S BabuAparna Jairaj

Aparna JairamAbidaBipina

IllustratorsVishnu VijayanNeha Noushath

Nebin BijuSabah Mohammed

Gauri S LalAnnie Jerry

Rohit S NambiarArlene John

Mariyam PhilipNimisha Roy

Keerthi PurswaniNeethi Elizabeth

Nidha CP

PhotographersAnimesh DebnathAneesurahman CAVivek Roshan MajhiRohith S Nambiar

Nihal A Saleem

Designed by Pravar Chaudhary. Printed for NIT Calicut by Geethanjali Offset Printers, Calicut

22016

Director, NIT Calicut

Staff Editor

I am happy to note that the Students' Affairs Council is bringing out the insti-tute magazine for the academic year 2015-'16. An institute magazine reflects the thoughts, dreams and ideas of the community and is a medium for its members to express themselves. I firmly believe that this edition has presented an opportunity to the NITC fraternity to express their creativity in terms of articles, stories, and poems and much more about life and experiences within and outseide the institute. My hearty congratulations to the current Magazine Committee for their hard work and dedication in bringing out Vox Populi.

Wish you all a happy reading,

Dr. Sivaji Chakravorti

Every institute magazine is an attempt to keep a promise - the specificities of which are unclear (luckily!) to all the parties involved. I feel that this attempt by Mr Jacob Tony and his team is a genuine one and hence has a justified claim on your time.

Happy Reading!

Vinod Pathari

National Institute of Technology, Calicut

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Dean, Students Welfare

Student Editor

I am extremely glad to see the release of NITC magazine 2016.

One more spring and summer went though the campus. Our magazine reflects the wonderful cohesion amongst our students during this period, the glorious history of NITC (RECC) and the spirit to lead an exemplary life, both professional and personal, with excellent connectivity. It also highlights our aspirations and self-ex-pressions. I am sure that you would enjoy it page by page.

There are many people behind this project. Dr Vinod P., Jacob Tony and many others. I would like to express our sincere thanks to all of them.

With lots of regards, I wish you all a wonderful reading time.

Dr. G. Unnikrishnan

Annual magazine is a medium, a spectacle reflecting the charisma of youthhood of the college. So when it comes to a institute hyped as one of the pioneer insti-tutes of the nation in terms of talent and culture, it becomes really crucial bring out a an entity encompassing objective inferences and at the same time catering to the hunger to unleash the literary talent each one of NITC family is capable of. The national circumstances surrounding the air underlines the importance of the freedom of expressing oneself against the rise of suppressive fascism especially against the enthusiastic youth. The uprisings in various national institutes gives a bright ray of positive hope about a progressive future. But the diabolic attitude of the administration to come hard upon these movements has proven that challenges in the route are tough. We sincerely hope that our humble work also pays its part in quenching the thirst of a teenager to express his or her emotions in best possible manner. The magazine committee has done a commendable job, working in tan-dem bringing such a creation come alive. And NITC College Magazine is in your hands. Make sure you have a good time going through it.

Jacob Tony

42016

A Thousand Defini-tions

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Collegilekku Swagatham

Contents6

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On Top of the World

40 Feet Under

Being at the Edge

Graduating Class of 2015

Clubs & Teams

Epitaph

Selfie's world

The Life of a Pawn

At the Brink of Des-tiny

Paper Life

Have we evolved psy-chologically?

Lost & Found

Crows before bros

Rumi Reprised

I Will Come Back

Aparna Jairaj Krishnasankar S

Pranay Kumar Seth

Shruti Gupta

Arnab Kumar Khanra

Jacob Tony, Fasal MT, Harikrishan P

Bipina TVAnagha Paleri

Arjun Narayanan

Sai Sreenivasan

Tarun Kumar

Ajay Mathew

Aishwarya Nair

Abhilash Sharma

Vinay Damodaran

Ajay Mathew

Nasreen Habeeb

Arlene John

Mahipal KulariyaAshwini Ravindran


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NITC feel:

To See of Not to See

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The Call

What's wrong or right?

Calcutta

Auroville - The City of Dawn

The Lass of Intrigue

Nanditha Unnikrish-nan

Arnab Kumar Khanra

Gamaya Prakash

Ankit Sharma, Chetan Kumar, Tarun Kumar

Vishnu Vijayan

Shruthi AsharafGayathri Ramesh

Tarun Kumar

Fasal MT

Nikhitha VelayudhanAtul Nair

Nihal A Salim

Shweta P

Gokul K

Tarun Kumar

Ankit Sharma, Sweta Yadav, Mahipal Ku-lariya

Anupama VA

Umaina PVHaritha KM

Avinash Mallya

Raghu CV

Gokul K


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82016

The first thing that we noted from the statistics of magazine survey was that quite a good number of guys from the fourth year are the ones who actually bothered to spend their time filling up this, though there is a common misconception out there in the 'NITC' air that they are usually the laziest ones of the lot.

Now the next factor, the CGPA.As you can see, in their first year in the college, kids are usually quite serious about their academics and with continuous advices pooling in from their parents about studying hard and scoring well and with not much to do ; being restricted within the boundaries of A and PG 1, they end up mostly spending their time plying through their books and finishing off their assignments well in advance. And they end up being a group of people with most number of 8 and 9 pointers.But then comes Ragam, which literally marks the end of all the restrictions that were imposed on these newbie and with that comes the general drift in the attitude. Like we see, there weren't many who scored less than 6.5 in their first year. But then once they step into second year, we see a sudden dip in the number of 8 and 9 pointers and a commendable increase in the number of those who scored less than 6.5 and it took them really a long time, that is, it's only when they reached their fourth year that they realized that it's high time they did something to save their grades.The next one is really interesting- The Hygiene Status. The most laziest ones apparently turn out to be our dear final years. Probably they are worried about the current issue of water crisis in NITC. Being the most experienced ones of our college (our 'Moopanmaar'), the best solution they found to tackle the issue is take bath twice a week. Some were so concerned that for them it was more like take bath once in two weeks.The money you spend in a typical month is yet another interesting statis-tics to look on. The trend, as expected, is not very surprising. First years, having not many options to hang out with their friends or their partners out in the campus or city, tend to spend much less when compared to their seniors and super seniors. Then, as they enter their sophomore, they tend to inculcate or experiment new things and well, money just seem to disappear into thin air.

Eda, ee chengai eth year aa?Karthik Menon


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The Hangout spots- Undoubtedly for our freshers, it's nothing but their own hostel rooms or their friends or if unlucky , probably one of the seniors'. What else could these poor, helpless ones expect? The final years could be seen concentrated in areas near mini where they cherish their final days, be-ing nostalgic and emotional and making

plans of when to hang out together later in future.. The second years could be seen more around the areas near center circle and MB lobby where, you know, they have easy access to show their newly instilled gift of seniority. Rajpath has never been an ideal spot, the 'crow-bros' of ours to be blamed for it. And for some

other second years, main canteen is the ideal spot for hanging out with their new partners .So if you are really hun-gry, trust us. Put in some more effort to reach mini canteen or atleast the coffee shop, for if you are someone without a partner, 5:00 pm to 7:00 pm is the most awkward time to be around the place.

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2016

Malayalam ariyilla?

If you are coming to NIT Calicut for the first time, and if you ask someone while walking through our Rajpat for directions, there is a fifty percent chance that he/she could be a non malayali especially a Telugu. Holi, Ugadi, Ganesh Chathurthi, Onam, Deepavali We celebrate almost every Indian festival and we have messes serv-ing almost all the Indian cuisines. NIT Calicut is a microcosm of the whole India in its true colours and hues. Our opinions and perspectives also differ with our languages.When it comes to languages, Malayalam tops the list with almost fifty percent of us using it for our day to day communi-cation. Then comes English with twenty five percent and Telugu with fifteen per-cent, there is a small proportion of our population who uses Hindi for most of their day to day communication.Our college, like any other engineering college in our country, has a very low sex ratio. Out of the three, our Hindi population has the lowest sex ratio but they are still better than Mechanical department. Telugus comes next, Ma-layalis have a relatively better sex ratio compared to the other two.Our Hindi and Telugu populations prefer NITC messes as the best service provided by our campus. Malayalis are a bit sceptic about the messes as they are always worried about food, but most of them prefer our drinking water facilities as the best. All of them have an above average opinions about our canteens and waste management facilities. But our Hindi population has a very low opinion about internet facilities available in our campus.Irrespective of our language, most of

Mohammed Swalah


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us prefer to spend most part of our day outside our campus. All of us are eager to explore the possibilities of the outside world and that may be the rea-son behind the use of a large number of social networking apps on a daily basis. 'Linked In' tops the list followed by 'twitter', 'Instagram',' Facebook' and 'Whatsapp'. Out of the three, our Hindi population spends most of their time on 'Facebook' and 'Whatsapp', while Malayalis prefer 'instagram' and' twitter'.The idea that science replaces God is not applicable in NITC. Most of our college mates are staunch believers in God with most of the malayalis believ-ing in some religion. We have atheists also, and their proportion is larger among non malayalis especially Telugus. Most of our English speakers believe in some divine intervention but not in any specific religion.Most of our Malayalam and Telugu populations has a very high opinion about our college and they will prefer our college to their friends and family. But, English speakers are not happy and they won't consider NITC while referring to their dear ones. Our Hindi population dislikes NITC as most of them won't recommend NITC to anyone.Due to the lack of a better sex ratio which resulted in a higher competition among our college mates, most of us are single except a few- seventeen percent which constitutes mostly of our English speakers. And all the best for the rest ten percent, who are relentlessly working to acquire their targets. When it comes to drugs and alcohol, Hindi speakers aced in every other list which includes cigarettes, marijuana, alcohol and other narcotics; followed by English- speakers, except for ciga-rettes where Malayalis won the second position. But luckily, these numbers constitutes only a small proportion of our population as a vast majority of us haven't tried alcohol or any narcotics. We can't call ourselves safe and secure

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while almost three percentage of our students have faced sexual harassment at least once inside our campus and most of them are English speakers. Most of us, irrespective of our language supports hostel curfew for the first years although we have a difference of opinion when it comes to Ladies Hos-tel. With nine percent still believe that we need an early 7:00pm curfew and thirty two percent supporting 9:00pm curfew, out of which most of them are Malayalis and a good number of Telugus.Mandatory Disclosure: Ragging is a crime, it's a punishable offense accord-ing to the posters pasted in our hostel messes. Although most of us have ragged our juniors in our senior years, with Malayalis and Telugus topping the list, it is statistically a very small number compared to what we have faced in our first year. And we prefer to call most of our interactions with our first years as a friendly talk rather than ragging.When it comes to extracurricular activ-ities, Ragam still remains the common chord connecting all the NITCians irrespective of our linguistic differences, followed by tathva. Our English popu-lation is much more involved with Club activities rather than Ragam and tathva. Telugu population prefer sports next to Ragam.These linguistic and state wise differ-ences are not borders dividing us, rather these differences are what makes our college interesting and beautiful. We can hear new stories, try new cuisines, and celebrate new festivals, and at the end of our four years in college; we will have friends in every part of the coun-try who have shared memories at some point in our college life.


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2016

My name is Jane Doe and I study in one of the best technical institutions in India, a country globally known for its techno-logical prowess. Yet, I write this article on my smartphone because I don't have access to a working computer after 7 PM. A lot of girls here have had their fair share of unpleasant experiences be-cause of being born with the "X"-Fac-tor and for many of us, education seems to be a way out of the cesspool towards which we are invariably head-ed. So we battle it out, with girls and guys alike, to find a place in an institute where we expect to get a fair chance to learn and grow.And then we are met with reality.The faculty equipped with their ortho-dox thinking often ends up measuring us on the scales of their double stan-dards. It's rather surprising , how mat-ters such as curfew, are so naturally ac-cepted ,that even convincing authorities to push the curfew time for academic purposes, seems like talking people into believing that the sun goes around the Earth. Despite the fact that we secure higher CGPAs than the majority of our male counterparts, we are often denied opportunities on the flimsy grounds of not for girls or you won't be able to keep up ".And ironically, all this seems to be done on the pretense of our benefit and safety. Keeping us locked in the Ladies Hostel is not the only way to ensure our safety, though it might just be the easiest to implement. What it essentially does is, restrict our access to the facilities we very much need and deserve. How do they expect us to become competent engineers if we are not even allowed to visit libraries or computer centers in our free time? I fail to see why we should be made to account for every minute of

Girls & BoysAparna JhaNiharika Pillai

M e N W o M e N


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our time spent on campus after hours. And by what parameters is the validity of our requests for extending curfew judged? More often than not, judge-ment is based on moral (policing) rather than obtaining a genuine understanding of our needs. There is barely 7% of the girls in the LH who want a 7 PM curfew while 37% want none, yet the opinions of the majority are disregarded.We came to college to metamorphose into mature independent professionals who could handle the challenges of the outside world. Surely, it is ludicrous to assume that this development can hap-pen in the confined boundaries of NIT, Calicut alone. Yet, due to the stringent policies that the college is notorious for, many of the girls haven't even been outside of the campus. It seems to me that overall development " is more of a marketing strategy than a mission statement of the college.I don't see why I should raise my voice, sit in silence to protest, walk defeated or bow to your ideas of right and wrong. I am just as much a part of this institu-tion as any of the boys. I shouldn't have to fight for equality, it is my right, not a privilege. It is about time now, that we as a society, reconsider where we headed with our notions of "gender equality and where we will stand in the times to come.

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2016

I finish six years as a student of architecture this May. Six years as a student in the department of archi-tecture at NIT Calicut. It's safe to say I'm something of an expert in the field of being educated by our system. In this article, I'm going to talk about two flaws that are preventing my de-partment, and maybe our institution, from giving its students a wholesome education.

1. LearningOn an average, we have 4 theory subjects each semester in the DOA. 4 x 10 semesters is 40 subjects over 5 years. I've passed nearly all of them now and can confidently say that I've never bought or borrowed a textbook to study from. I'm not the best student so I thought this was just me slacking off. Everyone else was probably reading hundreds of pages of theory for each

Continuous EvaluationPravar Chaudhary

subject. Recently though we found out more than 50% of architecture students have NEVER used a textbook to study. Our syllabus prescribes us multiple textbooks for each subject every year. In practice though it doesn't really work out. We're not buying any textbooks, nor are we borrowing any from the library. So where are we studying from? We're studying from Powerpoint Presenta-tions. In our survey, more than half of the students from the DOA claimed to have studied from ppts more than 50% of the time. Experientially, I agree with these num-bers. I have studied for tests either from ppts or the xeroxed notes of our class topper.And this is the problem. Powerpoint presentations are designed to enhance the learning process, not as a means to transmit information. You can use ppts to illustrate ideas, show students photos and examples and videos, but when it is used at the primary means of explaining complex new theory to students, and as the source from which questions for ex-ams are taken, it becomes hard to learn. Ppts are popular in our department because they make it very easy for students to do well in exams, especially in Test 1 and Test 2. Most often the answers are a list of points, prefera-bly written in the same exact order, as slide 8 of the third ppt we had to look through the night before. I have found that studying from ppt's makes it easier for us to forget subjects. Instead of learning ideas, I've spent most of my time learning abstract lists of short sentences. Ideas make you think, ideas evolve, and ideas create lasting impressions. The list of twelve design criteria for speech and music that


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I had to study for my Acoustics exam I forgot as I put my phone into my pock-et and left the hall. In a good class, I have fun and learn a lot; in a bad class, I don't have a good time and don't learn very much. For me and most students in our department, receiving a good grade has nothing to do with whether the class is good or not. My favorite class in these 12 semesters was called Research Methods, and it was the only subject in which over 42 hours our professor never once turned on the projector. We still didn't read a textbook though.

2. FailureI had to repeat one full year of college because my attendance was short of the 80 percent requirement in my sixth semester. I'm not the only one. In the last 5 years, at least 26 different students in the DOA have had to repeat a year because of a W grade. One W grade, not many, just one subject where the student had a stortage of attendance. You have to ask yourself, does the pun-ishment fit the crime? Is it a crime?

I have a fundamental problem with compulsory attendance requirement in our college. As an adult, I would like to have the freedom to decide whether or not I need to attend class, and to decide how often I go to a class. Our syllabus is quite rigid about the subjects that I have to register for. I know I have to pass them to move ahead in college, but if I feel like I can do so without sitting for 80 percent of the classes I should have the freedom to do so. Our system brutally punishes people who fall short of attendance in a sub-

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ject, regardless of how well they may have done otherwise. For the ones that don't know, if you get a W grade you are not allowed to write the final exams. You have to repeat the subject and ensure you get 80 percent attendance the next time, which is usually one year later. If you're lucky, it'll be for a 3 credit course and you can just slip it in some-where with the rest of your subjects the next year, overload a semester maybe, and get by. If you're smart you'll learn from the scare and make sure you're never close to a W again.

What if you're in your final year though? What if you get a W in a sub-ject that is a pre-requisite for a course in the next semester? I know students who have spent an entire semester doing just one subject. 3 hours of class in a week, for 4 and a half months, with nothing else to do and nowhere to go. Once you have a year back, all your subjects for the time left get spread over the extra semesters, and you spend each week with more free time and less initiative to work. Most afternoons are free and four day weekends are a routine. It sounds like a holiday, but really it's not.The attendance issue is not the core of my concern. It's irritating, but I'd be okay with it if it wasn't making people around me suicidal.

The real problem is the frequency with which I hear the term 'Year Back.'It is intensely demoralizing to repeat a year and while some recover from it, most lose faith - in education and in themselves. As someone with a year back and as a close friend of many other Year Backs, I have seen that you become more lethar-

gic, more likely to blame your problems on your surroundings, more angry and frustrated.Sometimes, or should I say often, this manifests itself in the use and abuse of drugs and alcohol. In our survey, we checked for the use of various intox-icants, and the jump in the categories for 5th year and Other is something we need to think about seriously.

I think these graphs are enough for NITC to seriously consider developing a new system for dealing with students that fail, a system that doesn't involve keeping them back for extra years.

But for those who still think this is the best way to go about it, there's more.

People with year backs are more likely to copy in exams. People with year backs have the largest proportion students with a GPA less than 6.5.People with year backs go home and travel less, despite having more free time on their hands. People with year backs have lesser opportunities in their lives, with almost 50% saying I don't know what I'm go-ing to do after college.

21 25 are arguably the best years of our lives, and I think that if we can design our system to prevent students from spending this time angry, frus-trated and helpless, it will be nice. Most institutions have systems of supple-mentary exams, extra credit courses, or fast track courses over the summer for students who fail. And most institu-tions don't fail people for not attending classes.

In the last 5 years, at least 26 students have been held back for a year because of a W grade in the department of architecture.


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This data is indicative, not absolute, and there are many more factors that we should be looking into when we design syllabi that affect so many lives so deeply. I'm not saying we should pass all the bad students. I'm not saying that we shouldn't fail people who deserve to fail because they didn't perform in the examination. I'm asking for better opportunities to allow students to keep trying to pass. A system that makes us work harder when we make mistakes, not a system that makes us suffer alone

in empty hostels with nothing to do but wait.

We're a young country and we're still figuring out how best to educate our massive population. They are multiple schools of thought on how to go about it, and each one comes with its own pros and cons. Evolution, successful de-velopment of useful traits and removal of the harmful ones, happens only when we review ourselves with every generation. It's an inherently slow pro-cess, but I believe it can be accelerated

if you're aware that it needs to be done regularly, this checking and updating of system performance. I'm not an expert in the field of educa-tion, and I may have misdiagnosed the entire problem. I have many personal prejudices when it comes to our college, and it's only human that they influence my behavior. But the data is the data. Unpleasant, unaltered. I invite you to draw your own infer-ences, or to discuss mine over some chai in the MC.

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Ashwini Ravindran

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The high-speed boat re-lentlessly churned its way through the incoming waves, leaving behind a wide trail of white froth as if to make its erstwhile pres-ence known. Onboard the boat, clad in a reflective orange life jacket, I clung tightly onto the metal supports and the side of the boat. Maybe it was the turmoil of the boat's mo-tion; or the cocktail of emotions ranging from the excitement of do-ing something new to the fear of the unknown that lay ahead, or rather, below; that caused me to clasp the handlebars as tightly as a vice. Beside me, clad in a similar vest, was my father who, after succumbing to my repeated pleas and whims to allow me to venture into the depths of the ocean, had decided to accompany me- primarily out of concern and to see to it that I returned safely from the dive, not to mention also out of the inherent curiosity for the underwater experience of swimming beside aquatic life- after all, we are both fervent followers of National Geographic's marine venture epi-sodes. I felt responsible for putting him at risk too- life-threatening risks

that awaited us underneath, as had been made clear to us by the diving club officials. My mind raced back to the diving club where presently my mother and my brother were awaiting our safe return. It had only been ten minutes since we had left the club towards the diving spot. It was at the club that the officials had de-scribed to us about all the things that could go south on us- such as a malfunctioning buoyancy con-troller, or a regulator free-flow or a wet breathing regulator etc, causing hazardous conditions such asphyx-iation or hypoxia or even seizures. It was made very clear to us that if we'd had any history of heart related ailments, it would do us good to stay at shore. We also had to sign on an affidavit that contained numerous terms and conditions- but in es-sence, it was a disclaimer document stating that Ocean Tribe scuba diving club would not be responsi-ble in the case of any unfortunate accidents. What really amused me at the club was the way in which the manager was trying to get us to sign the document and seal the deal by

40 Feet UnderArnab Kumar Khanra


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describing the lucrative wonders that we would get to see during the dive but not pressing on the matter too much and then immediately equiv-ocating about the dangers that were also involved and how we would be solely responsible for our choice. It appeared to me as if he was trying to strike an equilibrium between his professional side- playing on the interested looks that came up on the customer's (my father's) face and his conscience- reacting upon the concerned looks that appeared on my mother's. Anyways, after signing off the affidavit and a payment of 9000 rupees, my father and I donned our dive suits- skin tight, one-piece zipper suits made of a mix of neo-prene and nylon. The high- speed boat awaiting us was boarded and we were soon en-route to the diving spot at top speed, along the coastline of Havelock Island. A faceful of saline water brought me back to the ongoing journey. Twenty more minutes and about fifteen ki-lometers later, we reached the diving spot- a secluded area with no human settlements near the shore. Three large boats were anchored and on

those boats were kept all the neces-sary equipments for the dive. The trained divers who were to accom-pany us were also onboard, in diving suits bearing the Ocean Tribe logos. I gathered that the whole area was the club's privately owned diving spot. The net duration of the session was to be an hour, the first fifteen minutes devoted to training about things like- underwater sym-bolic conversation with the trained divers, how to use the life-support and buoyancy systems and how to breathe underwater! As it turned out, the wetsuits were only the first of several other diving equipments that were to be strapped on before going under the surface. First a belt loaded with square-shaped weights was put on- the weights were to decrease our body's buoyancy so as to make us sink. Then came up the buoyancy regulators used for resurfacing at the end of the dive or sometime during the dive session, in the case of urgency. The oxygen cylinders and the breathing pipes came up next, followed by the underwater goggles designed to keep the eyes and nasal region airtight. The whole set of

apparatus weighed around twenty kilograms and since standing straight up on the shore with such a heavy eccentric load was out of the ques-tion, the prepping up was completed partly submerged in the water- thank you Archimedes! After all the strapping up was done, the divers taught us how to use hand symbols as, obviously, one cannot talk under water. Just three sym-bols and they were pretty simple too- an A OK symbol for All OK; Thumbs Up for Take me to the surface; and pointing to the breather , mask or the ears and shaking your hand for Malfunc-tioning or Not Okay! The training commenced then. Biting on to the breathepipe, I submerged into the water. The feeling of getting completely engulfed by the water triggered a chill that ran down the spine and for good reason as I understood the next instant- I could not breathe. Nostrils were shut tight by the gasket in the head gear, plus my mind insisted that I must not breathe in, underwater, for fish do that and I wasn't gilled. A choking feel of breathlessness ensued- mak-

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ing me desperately want to resurface. Then the oxygen supply kicked in and I swallowed the incoming gush of cold dry air and let it out grate-fully, again through the mouth and for all I knew, I was breathing- under water- not to mention, emanating sounds resembling a submerged Darth Vader. The feeling was most unusual, and almost eerie. The contradiction of the whole affair of being encapsulated in fluid from head to toe and yet being able to breathe effortlessly as if standing in a breezy park on a chilly winter morning made the experience quite inexplicable- a description merely jotted down in words cannot pos-sibly justify the feeling. After a few more breathing cycles, when the fact of the newfound ability was mental-ly established, it was time for the ac-tual dive to begin. So my father and I, teamed up with two divers, made way for deeper waters. The diver accompanying me gave me a few more last minute tips and instruc-tions regarding how to cope with any mishaps, if they were to occur, though, he assured, that the chances of their occurrence was pretty less. And I just caught the last sentence of warning which I understood when verbal communication was cut off- Lots of poisonous stuff down there; be careful what you touch, and I was like, Great! Like I'd know which is which! The absence of gloves in the whole diving gear made the body more prone to poisoning or damage by touch. Narratives from NatGeo episodes claiming that the vast majority of all the poison-ous life forms on earth resided in the ocean waters popped to the foreground of my mind, dangerous premonitions followed.

I could feel the pressure building up as we sank deeper. The divers, equipped with long swim fins swam us away from the shore. My father and I were given regular rubber shoes to wear so that we couldn't drag away- the divers held on to our backpacks (that contained the oxygen tanks) and the buoyancy controllers. The divers had instruct-ed us to stay effortlessly still and not to try swimming on our own during the dive and that we had only one duty underwater, apart from enjoy-ing the dive- that is, to follow the number one rule of scuba diving: Breathe, breathe and never stop breathing. Gradually we descended in steps of increasing depth, until we reached the ocean floor, about 8 meters below the surface. To equal-ize the pressure on the eardrums, I tried breathing out with my mouth closed and nose pinched- a tech-nique learnt during the training. Looking up, I could see the sun and the clouds above, almost as clear-ly and well-outlined as it could be seen standing on the ground. The water was so surreally transparent that even with 8 meters of water overhead, the sunlight could very well penetrate to the depths of the ocean, making the floor, a well lit place. My dad and the other diver landed beside us. What we had land-ed on was a huge oval shaped rock. Then came to my notice, a third diver, who carried a waterproof underwater camera. So dad and I posed for the camera- bravehearts on the rock. There was another giant rock a little distance away from where I stood. I had always fancied how it must be for astronauts in low gravity conditions- stepping off one rock and making a giant leap

to the other in slow motion gave me the feel of being on the Moon, and Armstrong's first Lunar words echoed in the back of my head. Soft aquatic bushes and sponge-like things brushed against the exposed portion of my legs. One craning look underneath the rock showed me the expansive growth of a variety of underwater plants, anemones, hydra, etc. After inspecting the underside when I straightened back up, I saw that a huge swarm of tiny fish was approaching. Judging by the massiveness of the swarm and the smallness of each constituent member, there must have been at least a few hundreds of them. It was amazing to see the coordinated manner in which they moved, main-taining a general shape of the whole shoal. It looked as if there weren't as many fish in the shoal, but the shoal collectively was one large fish. The diver signaled me to move my arm very gently and feel the motion of the fish. Soft slippery scales sloshed against my skin. A small portion of the shoal dislodged itself from the shoal, finding a new focal point. One flick of the finger and all the fish scurried away, again, all as one fluidic body. The next moment a sharp momentary pain near the el-bow made me turn instantly, only to see that one trailing member of the shoal had bitten me there. A minor skin wound. Next, we were taken to Barrel Point- the deepest point to be, during the diving session- 40 feet underwater. The pressure on the eardrums had built up signifi-cantly. The dial read about 15 psi gauge pressure. Shivers also had set in, due to the prolonged exposure to temperatures around 15 deg C. But the sights compensated greatly


31

for the physical strain. A much more diverse set of aquatic flora and fauna could be seen. A plethora of soft and squishy sea anemones waved their tentacles like alluring Medu-sas- mesmerizing with the rhythmic harmony of their motion. There was this bubble-like creature that I took for another species of anemo-ne and it had the appearance of an intensely white puffed up bubble wrap. The diver gave me the signal to go ahead and touch it. Only for a moment I could feel the soft and membranous bubbles, before the anemone shrank rapidly in size as

if practicing an evasive maneuver. In a flash, the diver moved my arm away from where it was going. In my careless amazement, I was about to touch a poisonous sea urchin. Though not all urchins are poison-ous, this one wasn't as innocent as it looked. Apparently, the spines were loaded with a sort of neurotoxin that even in small quantities could cause temporary visual arrest (as the diver explained later). We swam then towards the point where once, a boat carrying six enormous wine barrels had capsized. The barrels had dropped to the ocean floor and upon their discovery by regular divers; the point was christened as Barrel Point. And as it could be seen, the pile of barrels was now home to a herd of seahorses, a fam-ily of starfishes and maybe also to the tiny blue-and-white octopus that lurked around it. One look sideways took me by surprise- a huge thirty

foot mountainous stretch of coral reef. Reefs could be seen throughout the dive, right from the shores to these deeper waters. In fact, cor-al reefs are the most lucrative and watched out for organisms in the tropical waters of the Andaman, as these waters host a huge diversity of coral species and Andaman is the only home to many of those. Vi-brant in all the shades of red, orange and green, the coral reefs, along with the other organisms that it symbiot-ically sheltered, were a feast to the eyes throughout. But this one was different. It was awe-inspiring to think how many millions of years of growth and expansion had gone into the creation of the gigantic mass that lay magnificently in front of me. On the surface of the reef and in its pockets and caving-ins were the homes of a variety of fish, octopuses, crabs, hermits, urchins and all the other aquatic beings I had witnessed thus far, all garnered in one miniature ecosystem. And guess who I found hiding among the hydra on the reef? Nemo! A group of clownfish and angelfish swam out of the reef, making their way away from the approaching intruders- us. It was saddening to think how the destruc-tive actions of Man was causing these beautiful, fragile beings to lose their habitats; how every year, water pollution and global warming cause the bleaching of great percentages of coral reefs. The beauty of the underworld needs to be preserved. Time was up. Forty five amazing minutes had come to an end. The diver motioned to the timer on his watch and signaled that it was time to leave. After a few more pictures and underwater videos, we rose from the depths towards the surface, again

in steps. As we did so, I kept my eyes fixated on the marvels below. All senses were heightened, each trying to savor every last bit of the experi-ence. We reached the shore and after heartily thanking the divers, we made our way back to the club. The speed-boat churned again. Dad and I both just sat there- not a word. I guess both of us were lost in a trance from the amazement. It was like returning to Earth after having explored an entirely alien planet. Even now as I write this, I can say that a part of my mind dives into the depths of my memories, relishing every moment of the dive. It was not just a beauti-ful experience but it was a romance with Nature, 40 feet under.

We reached the ocean floor, about 8 meters below the surface.

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2016

A Thousand DefinitionsAparna Jairaj

What is it that defines us... That makes us who we are?Is it the thoughts in our heads that only prevail for a fleeting moment, The deep ones, the confusing ones, the simple, the dark or the inappro-priate ones? Thoughts are only temporary, even the painfully recurring ones. A thousand thoughts contribute to one poem.If thoughts alone defined who we are, then poets are a thousand peo-ple.And artists, a thousand more.

Or is it our experiences that create soon-to-be fading memories that make us people?Is it the mostly hollow interactions with fellow human beings,Or the moments that we spend completely alone in silence so silent that you can hear a constant ringing,Could it be that the time we spend in our heads with the somewhat spontaneous thoughtsIs a cause for our personalities ... Creates a thousand people and a thousand more?Or could it be that the ultimate cause is the spontaneity because that's where it all begins.

Maybe people make people, their ac-tions make people, and their words make people too.Maybe we all make people, we are makers of people and persons make us.And we all break what we make in some way or another, creating some-thing less than how much there was to begin with.If how broken we are defines who we are, then the only thing that we aren't, is whole.

Maybe we're less than what we could be. Or maybe we're so much more than what we give ourselves credit for.Maybe what breaks us makes us more us than what makes us does. Or so we like to believe in hard times.

And the nagging question returns. What really defines us? The unrea-sonable human emotions that we so often blame for our stupid mistakes? The happy, the sad, the angst- is that what we are? If that's what makes us, then what even are we?Are we made by love- the love we feel, the love that is felt towards us, the love we crave so desperately?Maybe we are defined by our beliefs and that which we are so ardently passionate about.Or perhaps we are just people... Ex-isting only in the here and now.Capable of imagining the future. And clinging on dearly to the past.Perhaps we'll never know what really makes us. And maybe that's okay.


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At the Brink of DestinyAjay Mathew

There was a smile on that face. Hiding behind it was a weak and shallow man.Adolescence was just breaking into adulthood,Why was everyone asking, What is your plan?

He did not know, he did not know, How was he supposed to answer if He simply did not know?Go ahead son! Only let your imagi-nation stop youThe encouragement and freedom, my dreams were what they had fed. I thought and thought, I still had no clue.

At the break of dawn I saw the light, Mom! Dad! I know what I want alright!So happy, so merry, he just looks so free!A comedian, a comic; that's what I wanted to be. Of course not. Are you mad my son? How dare you crack such a prepos-terous pun?A Doctor, an officer, or a pilot is all you'll ever be,

Break my rules and then you shall see.

An eon of feuds and rumbles had passed, It was my loyalty versus my destiny,My mind vs my heart.They had all asked me What is your plan?Why is it now that they pay no heed? Oh why, oh why do I have to disap-point my clan?

I want to follow my dreams and succeed, Be a star, a gem in everyone's eyes. Brighten up faces in these dark times,Save them from a world full of lies.

And here I sit today to write this satire, Knowing not what shall spark my fire. A Joke or a uniform bloke, I did not know,Oh God, show me and I'll follow.

There was a smile on that face. Hiding behind it was a weak and shallow man.Adolescence was just breaking into adulthood,No one cared about his plan.

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2016

Crows. Oh, you've seen them all right. Its 5AM, Pearl Harbour, Hiroshima, Nagasaki...they are all asleep! That didn't stop the crows from pelleting bullets, leading the Rajpath to annihi-lation. Bloody remains of our martyrs still like lay there, white stains of bravery. Who dares walk down this road at this ungodly hour? says the crows. Anyone living on the campus can vouch for me when I say that this the only reason we refuse to go for a run early in the morning. I'm not a morning person, this doesn't matter to me Oh don't you worry child, the crows see to it that they return at sundown and

fulfil your needs. Their music activates some sort of deep melancholy that reminds them to use the lavatory which in this case, is absolutely any spot on the Rajpath. You've seen these crows. They often have street fights near the ATM circle (My money is always on the darker one #NotRacist).

They conduct auditions now and then for different competitions like 'Any-body Can Caw', 'Are you smarter than an architect?', 'The Noise', etc. Now even if you haven't seen these pesky little fellows, you have definitely seen their menace. Have you ever had to get up in the morn-ing and think, Why did

the waste in the dustbin decide to spread itself all over the floor? Surprise, surprise! The brothers got that done. If Pampers would just make a crow variant, then maybe, just MAYBE, we could avoid the 'white' bloodshed.I like them though the crows. They live a life none on the campus lives. No submissions, no tests or End semesters, no com-mittee, no department and no first hours. No one will hold it against him if he doesn't make the atten-dance cut-off. They are free in some sorts. Look at them flocking togeth-er, picking up our junk like gold. Aww man, they are getting their gold for free. Gold that won't be

spent by kings or on lights. Bounded by nothing other than their hunger and of course, their frequent urge to drop the bomb. When they start shooting you can't do much can you? You scurry away and avoid it. You can't even fight fire with fire here because well you just can't okay? They are the 50th shade of black and if you are alive to tell the tale I'm sure it'll be of the 51st shade of horror. Is that why they rule and control our Rajpath? Because they are light in the body, mind and soul. Maybe they are the true rulers of the north, you know the crows.

Crows before Bros?Ajay Mathew


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My immortality lies within my blood and bones,My history within those dead and gone.My beauty flutters in the moonlit gladesOf green grass venomous and fair.My strides long past, between the blades Of eyes, nails and hissing air, Remain buried under an epitaph of negligence.Woven miraculously by my own vigilance.My days are long, weary and bloody,My feet are sore, torn and muddy,Yet I need the gash of fresh airHurling past my long runs,Amidst love, worship and care Oh! Without truth light or shadow.My death is only a visitor to my pale contour,Like the flakes of winter from a tree, forlorn.

Anagha PaleriEpitaph

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2016

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39

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41

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42

2016

Let both reader and the writer exam-ine this question together whether we have evolved psychologically?Of course our body is a result of an evolution. Also its evident that human being has made tremendous development

Have we evolved psychologically?Abhilash Sharma


43

in terms of technology.In medical science it has made some impossible achievements like heart transplantation, which can save a life.On the other hand, it has also developed war capa-bilities with weapons of mass destruction which can completely annihilate the whole mankind. But the question is, have we evolved psychologically? For this enquiry both reader and writer must look upon the psychology of human being, which means we must enquire the conscience of human being. One must ask, what is consciousness? What are its ingre-dients?

Let us together observe the fact that our con-sciousness is a collection of knowledge, beliefs, dogmas, experiences, desires, sorrow, happiness, longing for something or the other, ambitions, pride, memory of the various pleasures, envy, affection, loneliness, nationalism, political views, and so on.

And we must understand the fact that this con-sciousness is common for the whole of whole mankind. The objects of desires may be different but the action of desire is the same. The reason of

sorrow may be different but the state of sorrow is the same. Beliefs may be different but the process of believing is the same. So this is a common lot which is shared by all the human beings around the world. So the world is me and I am the world. I represent the whole hu-manity. Observing this fact not merely logically, but actually seeing it gives one tremendous vitality.

Now one can ask the question have we evolved psychologically? It is clear-ly evident that we have not evolved psychologically at all. Even after such tremendous technological developments our sorrow, the desires, the longing, the loneliness and so on, are still the same as they were for people thousands of years ago. Their object of projection would have changed, but the condition of mind remains the same. This is also very much evident by the fact that human beings still believe in primitive religions, primitive scriptures which have no practicality in to-day's life whatsoever, same ancient nonsense rituals (superstitions, ponytails, beard, hijab and so on). Clearly human being has primitive consciousness.

Now the question is whether the consciousness

of human beings can ever evolve? The fact remains that it cannot. Now this is totally opposite to what religions and scriptures say. They say man can evolve into a higher con-sciousness which they call enlightenment. But one must understand the word evolution. Evolution is the change from one state to the other which is more developed than the pre-vious one. So every stage is relative to its previous stage. So there is a change in evolution. But change doesn't mean to transform one thing to the other, rather end this whole chain process.

Only then it's a true change. For example the lust of a human being in the young age when the body is having plethora of sexual hormones, is for the sexual pleasure. But with age this lust transforms for money, having good image among the society, and so on. And when one gets bored out of the materi-alistic world, then this lust transforms in achieving some higher consciousness or the so called enlighten-ment.So the lust has not ended, rather it is transforming from one thing to the other. So does it mean that human being is bound to live like this? No. If one can end this whole

change process then he has actually transformed. And to end this chain is to empty the whole content of the consciousness. Emptying sorrow, desires, beliefs, dogmas and so on. And this emptiness has its very own vitality, its own energy. But human being is frightened of emptying this content because that means to empty all the af-fection that one has invest-ed in some idea or a belief or a person or a house or a car and so on. On empty-ing it one becomes totally alone. One needs great audacity to do this.

But how can one do this? It can all end if one ob-serves each content step by step with great atten-tion. With one's full energy which we generally waste in chattering, in enter-tainment, in continuous thinking. And when one observes with such great attention, the hollowness of each content starts be-coming visible. And once their futility is realized, one no longer invests in them.

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2016

I am nothing but a corpse now. A body on the linoleum floor of my kitchen. Though I drew my last breath long ago and my heart had stopped its rhythmic dance, no one except my killer knows what happened to me. I, Giovanna Delsarte, had no family, my family and my whole life had been the Maryinsky.

There I was, twenty eighth in a long line of Russian dancers. This isn't how I should go. Not after a Giselle like that, with roses thrown at my feet. I was happy. I now know that I'd been happy.I had died, but as you can see, I haven't ceased to be. Though I must confess, I haven't encountered the gates of heaven nor the boatman who rows me over to the land of souls. But I am not going to taint the faith of the righteous who live by visions of the otherworld. Though I cannot feel the path traversed by the bullet through my skull or the deep throbbing pain that should accompany it, I do feel the deep torment of my soul struggling desper-ately to escape its mortal home. Unlike the clichd

saying of flashbacks in a dream fashion, the sole flashback I receive from my bullet-ridden brain is of the last few moments of my life, or rather of the last person I saw.I knew they were coming for us. They wouldn't have stopped the slaughter even if it was Nijinsky himself here. Like anyone facing imminent death, I said my prayers,Jesus, Mary, Joseph, I place my soulCrash! That had been the front door. I went back to my prayer. Jesus, Mary, Joseph. I placeI felt something cold press against my forehead- the cold metal of a rifle's barrel-and I looked into the eyes of my killer. He uncovered his face and I remember my breath rush out of me like that of a balloon let loose.The next few seconds passed with me pleading him to see reason, that what he and his 'commu-nity' do isn't pleasing to his creator, but terrorism. There is no God who wants death and blood. There is no true leader and prophet who would want his followers to kill anoth-er human being. That this act isn't going to grand him spiritual peace and that the ideology that had been fed to him is flawed.I remember the feel of tears stinging my eyes as I

look into his face and see only cold hatred pouring forth from his eyes.I will come back, my mind recalled faintly, a familiar voice, fading from memory like that of a soft rustle of leaves painstak-ingly carried by the winds to be lost in the desert.It made me determined like never before. I stood up and pressed my head against the gun's barrel and stared into his eyes and said, Kill me Na-deem. Be my murderer and you did come back. But for my life.I registered the sound of the bullet being released, before I registered the pain. For one fraction of a second, I think I saw re-morse in his eyes and then it was gone. I fall graceful-ly to embrace death. In life a ballerina, one in death too.Before my soul escapes my body and stripping myself of any worldly relations, I force myself to go back seven years. To the day when he said, I will come back.Are you sure that you left it there, Vanni? The 11 year old asked me.Yes Nadeem. I did leave it right in the foyer.I will get it for you then. I will come back Mileyan-ka, he said doing a mock arriere.He never came back. Nev-er did I hear from him,

nor did his parents. All signs had pointed toward a kidnapping and I had accepted him for dead.With the whole of Russia being under terrorist at-tack, the whole of theatre street had been on lock down. They were here now and the boy who had gone missing when I was eleven had come back for me as promised. But even in death, I had hope. Hope that the little boy would see the error in his ways and would realize that he is just a pawn in the hands of a master player, who artfully played his game to attain world domination. I hoped that someday, in this world or the other, his mind shall have the peace that he so well needs.I know it is a good way to go. A better fate than what other girls of my age got from these mindless pawns. It's a good life and it's a good world still. My soul breaks free from an incurable ballerina's body and returns home and I fade into oblivion. My song carried on by the winds and seas as I realize I too have been a pawn at the hands of a master player striving for world domination.

I Will Come Back.Arlene John


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An army of Rook, Bishop and Knight,the Mighty minister and the Royal king.Shielding those high powers I fight,Though I am just a little thing.

On my superiors, attacks I can prevent,And opponent's great powers, I can remove,But, My master is ready to forgo me at any instant,For one step at a time is all I can move.

Passing all these hurdles I reach the other end,And then master decides I am

not required any more,Off I go and he lets the min-ister descend,I leave with satisfaction of fulfilling my role.

Win or loss doesn't matter as long as a valiant battle is fought.Into the same box we are stuffed at the end of the contest.These differences exist only as long as game is on, I thought,As alongside the powerful and Royal king I proudly rest.

The Life of a PawnSai Sreenivasan

46

2016

Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet. Every drop of water on his shaven head was just another reminder of the coldness he felt inside. He often wondered what it would be like. There would be a ceremony of course. Not to mourn his death, but to celebrate his life. His parents would tell the story of how he tried to eat a cat. They would talk about how he could never sit still, how quickly he would get distracted but how he was always a good child, loving and affectionate. His friends wouldn't probably say much. Just stare at the ground for a long time, refusing to believe that he was gone. Time heals all wounds eventually and soon he would be forgotten too. His name would pop up here and there followed by awkward silences. His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden screech of tires. A car had just swerved to avoid a pup-py on the road. On any other day,

he would have rushed to help the puppy. Not today. Today he just wanted to see the world burn. He still remembered when he first knew. He was 12. It was a routine checkup. At first it was just a blunt pain in his stomach. But that pain gradually grew sharper and soon it was like he was being stabbed over and over again. Intestinal cancer. Three years, the doctors said. With the prop-er medication, probably five. Like Elizabeth Kbler-Ross predicted, he went through the first stage: Denial.

This wasn't happening. This was obviously some kind of joke. A prank pulled by his parents no doubt. Revenge for breaking that favorite china dish of theirs. But the tears seemed real enough. But no. He was too smart for them. He wasn't buying it. He didn't eat junk food, he didn't smoke, and he didn't even watch porn like the rest of his friends. There was no reason for him

to have cancer. He knew his parents couldn't keep this up for long. Once he pretended to learn his lesson, they would cave in. They took him to a new hospital every day, a new patronizing face every time but the same old tests and the same old re-sults. When the check-ups stopped, and the treatment started, that's when the seeds of doubt started to creep in. He started considering the possibility of this nine days' wonder and then came the second stage: Anger.Why was this happening to me? I don't deserve this. He remembered his nighttime prayers. O God, Please save all the good people in the world. But not all the thieves and murderers out there. Please make sure they get what they deserve. What a joke. There was no God. Just a fairy tale created to make children question the morality of right and wrong. His first six months of treatment were the hardest. No

Vinay DamodaranLost & Found


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one should ever have to grow up so fast. At the age of 12, he learned something which most people learn only after it's too late: Life wasn't fair. There was no prize at the end of it. There was no absolute right or wrong. Bad things happen to good people and there was nothing he could do stop it. His mind flashed through all the things he would never have: his first kiss, his gradua-tion, a life at college, his first car and so much more. He thought about all the things he could have done: join the school choir, learn how to swim, tell Rachel how he felt about her. Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets. And before he knew it, stage three: Bargaining.

He thought about it. Every bad thing he had ever done. Every little prick of his conscience. He was sorry he had took those cookies without asking Mom. He was sorry about lying to his teacher about his homework. He was sorry that he didn't spend enough time with Grandma. If he had another chance, if he ever survived this, he promised he would change. He would eat his veggies. He would do his own laun-dry. He would tell his Mom and Dad every single day how much he loved them. He would apologize to Billy for breaking his toy car. He would learn something new every day. He would do a good deed every day for the rest of his life. He would be-come an astronaut just as he always dreamed of. Not a single moment of his life, would be spent on regret

again. But the harsh reality, though slow, catches up with us eventually and with every breath he took, he was a step closer to death. Enter stage four: Depression.

Every drop of water on his shaven head was just another reminder of the coldness he felt inside. He often wondered what it would be like. His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden screech of tires. A car had just swerved to avoid a puppy on the road. On any other day, he would have rushed to help the puppy. Not today. Today he just wanted to see the world burn. Two years had passed since that fateful day. The world no longer held the color it once did. Everything was a blur of black and white. All the things that once made his heart flutter were now just harsh reminders of what his life had been. There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds. Whenever you read a cancer booklet or website or whatever, they always list depression among the side effects of cancer. But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying.With every step he took, the rain echoed his life, gradually progress-ing from a tiny drizzle to a raging torrent. Soon he had no choice, but to take shelter under the crooked branches of an elm tree. That's when he noticed that he wasn't the only injured soul to seek shelter under these harrowed boughs. The

little puppy which had nearly been run over had limped its way to the nearest sanctum. They say the soul has an interpreter - often an uncon-scious but still a faithful interpreter - in the eye. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Its eyes were so intense that he wanted to look away, or nev-er look away; he couldn't decide. But he felt the same sadness and isola-tion it did and for once he realized

that the pain he felt was not his own. Everyone had their own cancers and the scars they bore were not blemishes but testaments of a battle well fought. But he understood at last what the puppy had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but he knew that there was all the difference in the world.As the first rays of sunshine grazed his face after a long time, he realized he had found something which he thought had been lost forever. HOPE.

Bad things happen to good people and there was nothing he could do stop it.

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2016

In a matter of hours, I'll be all alone. I'll again be that one who once jeal-ously watched people walking in groups, making fun among themselves, laughing! And now that I know how it is like to be around people, I'll just be sadder. I never thought you'd come here tonight just out of nowhere. I thought I'll be bur-ied in without anyone being there to talk to, but you came!

A really sad DB TOP talked its heart out to me that night. It was just another day during the vacation when I came to college for some reason. I was missing DB TOP badly that I couldn't wait to go there. And I could really feel that something is wrong with the whole atmosphere as I entered the place. I could see a lot of metal pillars and asbestos sheets lying here and there and the place looked all dusty. And as I reached the top, I got an idea of what's going on. The DB Top was getting covered over with sheets. Silence filled in as the already dead atmosphere felt like it's pressured up with anger and pain. Next morning they'll cover it up and that's going to be it- it suddenly struck me hard! The very thought of it weakened me and I sat there, being not able to move. It was almost midnight and I didn't feel like leaving the place any time soon.

A loud roar of a metal piece followed by a cracking sound of a door, which judging by the sound was never opened for a very long time, was the beginning! I heard gig-gles as a manly foot landed on me followed by a hand. First touch! Ever since I was left alone by the guys who created me, I was curious to know how it'd be like when

some-one touches me. And trust me, it felt heavenly. The warmth in it makes you feel so special. A touch is something magical!

He stretched his hand and there she was, struggling her way up, with this beautiful smile on her face. She was stunned, just as she made her way up, looking in to infinity. She stood there still, with no attempt to move or say anything. She was shivering a bit in the wind and that's when he took a blanket from his bag and covered her from behind. It was like she came back in to reality with the very touch of him. She turned to him and in a shaky cold voice she said This place is amazingly beautiful!. He had a smile on his face and extreme feelings of love in his eyes when he said Still it couldn't beat you!. She needn't reply him, he wasn't waiting for a reply, and before I knew, they were having the first kiss of their life! I was overwhelmed with happiness as I looked away, giving their best time to themselves. Thank you for

Krishnashankar SOn Top of the World

He stretched his hand and there she was, struggling her way up, with this beautiful smile on her face.


49

this beautiful day! he whispered as they left, after what felt like an hour. I knew I always wanted to be around people, but this was something beyond explanation. And I was really curious about the days to come because I knew I was going to have more visitors thereafter.

People mostly came here out of curiosity those days, both boys and girls, and everyone had different opinions. Some were afraid of height, some complained about the sun ('come in the night' I wanted to say), some were worried about getting suspended and stuff and then there were a few people left. They really saw the beauty in me. There were girls too, but they were helpless because they weren't allowed to roam around in the night!

It was just another night when the usual lot of people didn't come and I was wondering why. I could hear music and cheering in some distance and I thought may be that's why I'm left alone. Suddenly I heard footsteps. Not the usual ones, but those were really gentle and calm. Her scared but enthusiastic eyes scanned the area as she stepped on me. A sigh of accomplishment and she sat there taking her mobile phone out from her pocket. I said I'll do it one day. All these days of teasing me is over Mr. Funny! I'm here on this very beau-tiful place, on top of the world, and its midnight! You lose, I win. BAHAHAHAHA She was laughing so wild her face had this devil-ish look while she did that. She laughed, danced wildly and lied down when she realized that she's tired. I could feel her heart beat! I could really feel how happy she was to be here. It really was a dream-come-true for her, and she really seemed to enjoy every second of it. As she left, her face told me that she won't be able to come back again and I could never ask her to stay long!

I always loved that crazy and senseless lot who came here to drink off and forget things. I always wanted to join them and advice them, but you know, maybe they don't deserve that much! It'd always be about that bitch who dumped him

or that professor who gave him an F grade just because he slept during the class! It's funny how easy they get relieved after talking everything out with all the anger they have. The friends who came to console them may not speak a word, but still their presence would make them feel good. That's what's great about friendship. Sometimes you just need to be there. Say nothing and yet a touch or a hug will do!

t's all different when it comes to you! You've been here in this college for the past two years and you always almost came here alone. The first time you were here, I still remember how you lied down, listening to your favorite song and breath-ing slowly. The next time you brought some of your friends and you said this is my only favorite place in the entire campus! and then they were like What's so special about this place?. You chose not to reply because you knew they'd never understand. I bet I know all of your favorite songs better than your best friend, because you played them over and over whenever you came here. You come here for answers and I know you always manage to get them somehow. I know it's going to be hard for you to believe that I'm not going to be there for you anymore. And it's even harder for me because you came today here out of nowhere when I thought no one would come. Thanks for being here tonight!

I woke up in to the ice cold surface of DB Top and it was an hour past midnight. It took me time to realize that I slept off there and it's been more than an hour. The memories of a magical dream stormed inside me as I struggled and stood up for the very last time in that astounding place. Sigh!***For those who don't know, DB TOP is this opening on top of our Department Building which recently got covered up!***

50

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2016

I see her looking down at me. Hoping to see the words take form on me and appear as though by magic. And then it happens, her pen dances across me, her words etched into my very fiber. She sets her pen down. Satisfied? I can't tell. And then I'm folded up and put in an enve-lope sealed with the greatest trepidation. And then I travel miles and miles for days or perhaps even weeks. I can't tell time in this envelope. I don't know if the light I see through the envelope is sunlight or a spotlight. And fi-nally I hear a sharp rip of the envelope. Light and air pour in and we embrace each other like friends reunited after a long time. I'm put on a table and flattened. It isn't her I see now, the one whose words I was entrusted with, it isn't her. He reads while his fingers run across the ink idly. And then in one swift move, he crushes me into a ball and tosses me away. I feel pain and I already know that my pain would travel across miles and even-tually reach her too but in the form of absence - absence of a response. I hear a crinkle as I to stretch myself little but all in vain. Hours go by as I am reminded by the omniscient ticking of a clock. I also hear water dripping from a faucet

somewhere. The silence is suddenly broken by footfall and the unmistakable flicking of a light switch followed by the buzz of a tube light flick-ering and then flooding the room with light. I'm picked up and then flattened against a table top. It's him again but something has changed. He reads me over and over again and finally pulls out a sheet of paper. I watch as his pen dances across the paper just like hers did. He flattens me against the table top again and then folds me and puts me into a box. And then I meet a hundred other letters she wrote him and we share our stories. I also meet a few he wrote her but never sent. He opens the lid of the box. Let-ter in hand deciding where it should go. The box suddenly plunges into darkness but just before it went dark I caught a glimpse of him scrawling something atop an envelope. And that ink pattern I sup-pose is where she is.

Paper LifeAishwarya Nair

Her pen dances across me, her words etched into my very fibre.


75

Rumi Reprised: An Engineer's VersionNasreen Habeeb Ur Rahiman

When I took an extra step ahead by slightly distort-ing Rumi's golden lines, I knew that the reprisal per se has significance in the status quo. This very idea, of a world beyond engi-neering, pumped out from my brain only after successfully completing one year of M.tech. Till then, I too was a 'proud' engineer and moreover a mechanical engineer. I have hap-pily enjoyed the revering looks of other-department-girls when they spot us in a mech den of guys. The bold and gutsy image was a crown, I have to admit.Turning a few more chapters of life backwards, let's start from where every E-man/woman (obviously the E is for engineer) starts. Like most of those geeky engineering students, I too joined for B.tech with full-on passion. Repeated readings of Kalpana Chawla's, Dr. A.P.J Abdul Kalam's and Kiran Bedi's biogra-phies were more than enough to fill in that love for technology plus spunk demanded by a lady, going for a shot where she is not usually expected. The four years was tough but sweet experience. Friends, die-hard-studies on study holidays, grades, placements (that too twice), GATE scores... De facto the honey-moon period of life! B.tech was the right choice: a self-satiated mind resonated. I clearly remember waiting, in Thrissur railway station, for the 10.30pm Bangalore train. The dream journey for my first job

Next morning, the walk to-wards beautiful 'sigma tech-park' in Whitefield, reminded me of Konkana Sen's char-acter- Aisha in Wake up S!d movie. I was the NEW GIRL IN THE CITY. In the first week of job it-self, I knew for the matter of fact that 'honeymoon period' was over. The idea of that so-called-engineer who works on new stuff and transforms the world is just in books and Sci-Fi movies, not here. As my US-based employer was in urgent need for getting works done fast, the training was faster than it has to be. So I had the luxury of understand-ing the type of job which I'll have to do for the rest of my life in Chainalytics- the company. Work, boredom, corporate colleagues includ-ing a finger count of friends for relief Now the life has almost turned into wait-ing-for-weekends. Soon the bell rang in mind: you don't need to do a job for sake of money alone. By then, GATE was almost open in Calicut. I thought to try my luck through spot admission for M.tech. Taking sick leave from office, here I was in NIT campus. Striking down my option for Industrial Engineering, they kicked me

to Nanotechnology- a field I hadn't even applied for. But then, I was thinking to give fate to take a chance for now, as technical stuff would be in-teresting than office for sure. That's how I became M140497NS the M.tech student.

NIT was a different world on its own. Opposite to the complete freedom I enjoyed in my alma mater- GEC Thrissur, here I sensed the pressure of studies and grades in a real form. Resources were plenty but the schedule was hectic. And the worst part was, no study holidays before semester exams! The first phase was a life-is-a-race. But I could get back my senses once the survival instincts for a happy-life was awaken. Finally I felt the glee of being an NIT ian. After all who wouldn't like Tathva, Ragam and our black&white Rajpath(the color credit goes to crows, we know it)? But still I missed answer for one question, am I truly hap-py and right about thi

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