Finally made my first trip to IIT Powaii. IIT is supposedly where the best and the brightest of our country work, immersed in trying to find a solution to all problems that fester mankind , right from creating fuel out of water to figuring out the sense in Anu Malik s lyrics. IIT is also a mini village with an acreage in 3 digits and with a sex ratio of (contrary to official figures) 1:200. That explains why anything remotely female within the campus, species no bar, is treated with god like reverence. And is subjected to such opening lines as “ hi, Im xyz and have an all India rank of 21.Want to have ice cream with me sometime?”. It also explains why ,amidst years of isolation from the female sex, they get a very distorted idea of what passes as “hot”. Now, Im not one to judge but I reckon with sufficient amount of alcohol, Arijit could find a regular cow pretty hot.
Anyway, it was close to 1 am when I first passed through the hallowed gates of one of India s most revered institutions. Thats pretty much precisely the time when most IITians get up and start their nightly routine of studying ,mucking around in the canteen and generally wasting their life in each other s company.
Our tour started from the main gate towards the hostel H3 where my buddy Arijit Sarkar has his lodging. As the car moved towards H3, Sarkar gave us a guided tour notifying us of the places of interest in the humongous campus. We came across the Shailesh J Mehta School of Management ,which is a landmark for guys who want to do their MBA from IIT. There was the huge convocation hall which is made to international standards. And then as we were taking this sharp right, Sarkar , with a look of undisguised reverence, and a voice thick with serious emotion , pointed to a building named , and Im not kidding here, “Queen of the campus”. You d think ,from his manner, that it probably had an underground vault filled with gold and diamonds and a secret passage to Estella Warren s bedroom . But no, the reason this place is the holy grail for these guys is that its one of the 3 girls hostels on campus. Females ,as aforementioned, are a scarce commodity in IIT, and the demand-supply equation here is pretty skewed. Which basically means that if you have a girlfriend on campus, you are looked upon as a demigod with an awe usually reserved for Einstein and Newton. As Sarkar wistfully revealed , in his pre IIT days , he had a female colleague in his classes who was hairier than an average 27 year old male and whom, back then, he wasnt "really into". She'd now gotten through to Powaii was considered the epitome of beauty and was the apple of 13 pairs of eyes. He also affirmed that he would readily give his right arm or left leg or both to win her attention now.
Anyway, we crossed a few buildings and a few more and 2 days later finally reached hostel h3. We got out of the car and moved towards the entrance.
We were greeted by a sight of scores of scrawny , unshaved boys schmoozing about with plates full of, as the menu proclaimed, “chineeees” bhel, “schizwan noodal “ and hakka “chopsee”. Coupled with an alarming disconcern for any dress code and a practised proficiency at concocting expletives in a hybrid accent mashing and mixing the worst twangs of Punjabi, Maharashtrian and Gujrati , they indeed justified IITs claims of being a cross cultural haven and also made us feel very much at home. If anything,they seemed as wasted as we, in DJ Sanghvi COE , were. Dodging the odd stray dog or two, we moved inwards.
Sarkar also offered to let us in his room . Now when u hear sarkar talking about his room it seems that visiting it is an event which will redefine your life and will be something you can proudly relate to your grandchildren. In more ways than one, that is true. When my mom next screams at me for being an untidy slob ( which should be today) Ill soothe my conscience by reminding myself of how high Id stand in her estimation, if she were to visit Sarkars room. With no warning or premonition of what we were going to face, we were led to the 2nd floor till we found ourselves outside a flimsy wooden door.
Sarkar opened the door and switched on the light. The walls were blue in colour . At least, the visible parts seemed to be. Though the vast majority of their expanse was covered by cobwebs of all shapes, sizes and intricate designs . Sarkar carefully pointed out the finer details of the cobweb design with a pride that comes naturally to a man whose room has been publicly acknowledged by the entire hostel as holding the finest collection of the same. The eyes then saw terra firma for the first time. Not that much of it could be seen. On the floor was a motley collection of objects , ascertaining the exact nature of which would require at least a team of 17 people at work for at least the better part of a year. Some of it could be made out though. The small room had a flooring covered with several layers of ET, which gave a fine effect of an innovative wall to wall tiling design. There were various other papers of all sizes and colours littered about. I picked up one . It was Sarkars previous exam s q. paper. Sarkar gave us an idea of the convenience he had factored into the careful designing of his room as he put a hand down , rummaged a bit and came up with a pen, then did it again and came up with a blank paper. Having never personally spent on stationary ,he claimed this technique had never failed him in all these years. Like ghosts and spirits, it was just one of those inexplicable things of nature which go to show that there is still much that cannot be explained by science. There were , he claimed 2 beds, one of which was on the floor. This was buried under a layer of newspapers and 2 each of dirt and grime. The other one, had at one end, 2 shoes of different sizes. Sarkar claims these weren’t his. Next to it were a pair of dirty socks which had been used during a football match in the summer of 2001. These , Sarkar claimed, were his. There was, somewhere in between ,the battered remnants of some novel . Having tried , I can safely say that it was impossible to ascertain which one. Sarkar solved this puzzle by saying, in recent times, he had read 3 novels , and in all probability ,what we saw was a heterogeneous combination of those. There was also a lock and a key ,though not a pair, a few transistors , what seemed to be a pillow case, and a soap (seeing which, Sarkar said “ ah, finally found it after a week “ which makes me wonder if he bathed at all in that week) on the upper bed. Further up was a table which housed a monitor . Next to it, on the floor, lay the mangled carcass of a CPU. It was open ,had no fan unit, had torn wires all over, and if my guess was correct, that straw hatched structure within was a sparrows nest.
Then with a beaming face, Sarkar led us to a cupboard . This, he opened with an exaggerated flourish and smiled as if we had finally witnessed the star attraction of the evening. But all we could see were more ETs , these ones being older, this being evident from the mouldy fungus that grew on it. We could not , as honest friends , render this collection on a higher pedestal than the other wonders on exhibition. Sarkar s face fell for a second ,then turning to the cupboard, he gave an “oh!!” , smiled sheepishly and moved away the papers. Hidden behind them were two bottles of cheap Korean liquor. A couple of swigs were partaken and yielding to popular demand, Sarkar finally decided to conclude this item on the itenary.
On our way out, he claimed ,to an unbelieving audience, that he had cleaned the room 4 times over the past 2 years,bringing the average up to 1 per semester. He also revealed how his previous room mate had left the room ,remembering that he was the only child to his ageing parents and had a responsibility towards them.
As we walked back towards the car, Sarkar told us tales of the leopard and the crocodile which had infested IIT over different periods during the previous year. He did not react kindly to the suggestion that these wild animals were naturally drawn to the compatible company that was resident within the hostels.
At this point,we overheard an animated conversation that was taking place in one of the ground floor rooms. Apparently, exams were on and as is the norm there, a group of 5 had gathered to study together on the night before. 4 of them were coaxing one boy, evidently, the accepted authority and brain in the group, to explain a chapter to them. He finally agreed , started his explanation , was stopped short 2 minutes later ,by protests that he was an ass and didn’t know head or tail of what he was saying. After a volley of questions ,doubts and arguments he was coaxed again to continue, again he got another 3 sentences in ,only to have his logic challenged, his common sense questioned and to earn 4 ready pointers to the flaws in each. This ritual continued sequentially over the next couple of minutes. Sarkar explained : “exams are on" and moved on.
We visited the lake where most IITians drink alcohol and listen to rock by the bank .At 2 odd in the night, it did seem a very inviting place to get inebriated . Sarkar remembered how he had first got drunk here and had cried after listening to the song “Yellow”.
With that, we came to an end of what was a memorable visit. We reflected on what had been the first hostel visit for us : A good number of these guys came from different states and spent months ,on end ,away from their friends and family. In the company they enjoy ,they are bound to get tougher and smarter and will be a whole lot better equipped than most to tackle the knocks of life. The entire atmosphere spurs them to constantly rediscover newer levels of proficiency in themselves and to keep climbing that one step higher till they reach the levels of excellence for which they are applauded all over the world. What that means to me, is there could be concerted group efforts to get back at me for the trash Ive written . Now I m really too soft a target for hate mail and other venomous forms of retaliation. So Ill stop now. About 12 paragraphs too late.
Anyway, it was close to 1 am when I first passed through the hallowed gates of one of India s most revered institutions. Thats pretty much precisely the time when most IITians get up and start their nightly routine of studying ,mucking around in the canteen and generally wasting their life in each other s company.
Our tour started from the main gate towards the hostel H3 where my buddy Arijit Sarkar has his lodging. As the car moved towards H3, Sarkar gave us a guided tour notifying us of the places of interest in the humongous campus. We came across the Shailesh J Mehta School of Management ,which is a landmark for guys who want to do their MBA from IIT. There was the huge convocation hall which is made to international standards. And then as we were taking this sharp right, Sarkar , with a look of undisguised reverence, and a voice thick with serious emotion , pointed to a building named , and Im not kidding here, “Queen of the campus”. You d think ,from his manner, that it probably had an underground vault filled with gold and diamonds and a secret passage to Estella Warren s bedroom . But no, the reason this place is the holy grail for these guys is that its one of the 3 girls hostels on campus. Females ,as aforementioned, are a scarce commodity in IIT, and the demand-supply equation here is pretty skewed. Which basically means that if you have a girlfriend on campus, you are looked upon as a demigod with an awe usually reserved for Einstein and Newton. As Sarkar wistfully revealed , in his pre IIT days , he had a female colleague in his classes who was hairier than an average 27 year old male and whom, back then, he wasnt "really into". She'd now gotten through to Powaii was considered the epitome of beauty and was the apple of 13 pairs of eyes. He also affirmed that he would readily give his right arm or left leg or both to win her attention now.
Anyway, we crossed a few buildings and a few more and 2 days later finally reached hostel h3. We got out of the car and moved towards the entrance.
We were greeted by a sight of scores of scrawny , unshaved boys schmoozing about with plates full of, as the menu proclaimed, “chineeees” bhel, “schizwan noodal “ and hakka “chopsee”. Coupled with an alarming disconcern for any dress code and a practised proficiency at concocting expletives in a hybrid accent mashing and mixing the worst twangs of Punjabi, Maharashtrian and Gujrati , they indeed justified IITs claims of being a cross cultural haven and also made us feel very much at home. If anything,they seemed as wasted as we, in DJ Sanghvi COE , were. Dodging the odd stray dog or two, we moved inwards.
Sarkar also offered to let us in his room . Now when u hear sarkar talking about his room it seems that visiting it is an event which will redefine your life and will be something you can proudly relate to your grandchildren. In more ways than one, that is true. When my mom next screams at me for being an untidy slob ( which should be today) Ill soothe my conscience by reminding myself of how high Id stand in her estimation, if she were to visit Sarkars room. With no warning or premonition of what we were going to face, we were led to the 2nd floor till we found ourselves outside a flimsy wooden door.
Sarkar opened the door and switched on the light. The walls were blue in colour . At least, the visible parts seemed to be. Though the vast majority of their expanse was covered by cobwebs of all shapes, sizes and intricate designs . Sarkar carefully pointed out the finer details of the cobweb design with a pride that comes naturally to a man whose room has been publicly acknowledged by the entire hostel as holding the finest collection of the same. The eyes then saw terra firma for the first time. Not that much of it could be seen. On the floor was a motley collection of objects , ascertaining the exact nature of which would require at least a team of 17 people at work for at least the better part of a year. Some of it could be made out though. The small room had a flooring covered with several layers of ET, which gave a fine effect of an innovative wall to wall tiling design. There were various other papers of all sizes and colours littered about. I picked up one . It was Sarkars previous exam s q. paper. Sarkar gave us an idea of the convenience he had factored into the careful designing of his room as he put a hand down , rummaged a bit and came up with a pen, then did it again and came up with a blank paper. Having never personally spent on stationary ,he claimed this technique had never failed him in all these years. Like ghosts and spirits, it was just one of those inexplicable things of nature which go to show that there is still much that cannot be explained by science. There were , he claimed 2 beds, one of which was on the floor. This was buried under a layer of newspapers and 2 each of dirt and grime. The other one, had at one end, 2 shoes of different sizes. Sarkar claims these weren’t his. Next to it were a pair of dirty socks which had been used during a football match in the summer of 2001. These , Sarkar claimed, were his. There was, somewhere in between ,the battered remnants of some novel . Having tried , I can safely say that it was impossible to ascertain which one. Sarkar solved this puzzle by saying, in recent times, he had read 3 novels , and in all probability ,what we saw was a heterogeneous combination of those. There was also a lock and a key ,though not a pair, a few transistors , what seemed to be a pillow case, and a soap (seeing which, Sarkar said “ ah, finally found it after a week “ which makes me wonder if he bathed at all in that week) on the upper bed. Further up was a table which housed a monitor . Next to it, on the floor, lay the mangled carcass of a CPU. It was open ,had no fan unit, had torn wires all over, and if my guess was correct, that straw hatched structure within was a sparrows nest.
Then with a beaming face, Sarkar led us to a cupboard . This, he opened with an exaggerated flourish and smiled as if we had finally witnessed the star attraction of the evening. But all we could see were more ETs , these ones being older, this being evident from the mouldy fungus that grew on it. We could not , as honest friends , render this collection on a higher pedestal than the other wonders on exhibition. Sarkar s face fell for a second ,then turning to the cupboard, he gave an “oh!!” , smiled sheepishly and moved away the papers. Hidden behind them were two bottles of cheap Korean liquor. A couple of swigs were partaken and yielding to popular demand, Sarkar finally decided to conclude this item on the itenary.
On our way out, he claimed ,to an unbelieving audience, that he had cleaned the room 4 times over the past 2 years,bringing the average up to 1 per semester. He also revealed how his previous room mate had left the room ,remembering that he was the only child to his ageing parents and had a responsibility towards them.
As we walked back towards the car, Sarkar told us tales of the leopard and the crocodile which had infested IIT over different periods during the previous year. He did not react kindly to the suggestion that these wild animals were naturally drawn to the compatible company that was resident within the hostels.
At this point,we overheard an animated conversation that was taking place in one of the ground floor rooms. Apparently, exams were on and as is the norm there, a group of 5 had gathered to study together on the night before. 4 of them were coaxing one boy, evidently, the accepted authority and brain in the group, to explain a chapter to them. He finally agreed , started his explanation , was stopped short 2 minutes later ,by protests that he was an ass and didn’t know head or tail of what he was saying. After a volley of questions ,doubts and arguments he was coaxed again to continue, again he got another 3 sentences in ,only to have his logic challenged, his common sense questioned and to earn 4 ready pointers to the flaws in each. This ritual continued sequentially over the next couple of minutes. Sarkar explained : “exams are on" and moved on.
We visited the lake where most IITians drink alcohol and listen to rock by the bank .At 2 odd in the night, it did seem a very inviting place to get inebriated . Sarkar remembered how he had first got drunk here and had cried after listening to the song “Yellow”.
With that, we came to an end of what was a memorable visit. We reflected on what had been the first hostel visit for us : A good number of these guys came from different states and spent months ,on end ,away from their friends and family. In the company they enjoy ,they are bound to get tougher and smarter and will be a whole lot better equipped than most to tackle the knocks of life. The entire atmosphere spurs them to constantly rediscover newer levels of proficiency in themselves and to keep climbing that one step higher till they reach the levels of excellence for which they are applauded all over the world. What that means to me, is there could be concerted group efforts to get back at me for the trash Ive written . Now I m really too soft a target for hate mail and other venomous forms of retaliation. So Ill stop now. About 12 paragraphs too late.
6 comments:
Great fun to read rish, but may be a bit too exaggerated.
Surprisingly enough you missed out on one very important aspect of an IITians life: AOE. Just go around any hostel building and try finding out the number of dudes engaged in building and destroying empires and kingdoms.
Maybe Sarkar doesn't do it or maybe did not let you know.
come to my room- you'll realise there DO exist some clean rooms here (in IIT) :)
btw, nice blog- pretty routine stuff for me, but fascinating for some i suppose ... ;)
sujay@aero
p.s. you know any digant from cse@dj by any chance?
this post has 'anyways' in it. THREE times !!!!!!!!!???????????????????
T T T s..
wow...very nicely written :)
Loved reading it..although you should have included the AOE and CS fundaes too
you picked one of those news papers, eew!!
he must have shagged in some of those.
@Sarkar
m i right?
dude m frm iitb..n u seriously captured the essence rly well..kudos man..n we sure ARE A FILTHY LOT...gr8 writing
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