LIFE AND ENGINEERING

It was 2008, second week of July when the new batch of to be manufactured engineers arrived in VIT, but we had no idea we would actually learn and grow here. Well, not all of us learnt engineering but we all did learn a lot about people, friends and life itself. Perhaps we all can agree that no matter how exhausting and frustrating that IT assignment was in second semester, or how impossible it seemed to learn Math from Vijayaragavan in the first, we did overcome all that. We are not gonna miss our college, but the elements that made it up. Our friends, the areas of the campus and hostels and the times we spent doing what seemed bakchodi then but one of the most memorable and precious parts of our lives now.

During the orientation I was told that my classes would be held at SJT. And it turned out be some task to find it. There were no boards leading to it, nor did anybody I asked for directions knew where it was. There wasn’t even a proper road or footpath back then due to the ongoing construction. The tunnel was just a dream back then for the boys in L block. But curse and yell was all we could do and boy, we did add some new words to our vocabulary!

Then came the labs. I hated the chemistry one, but it was Physics that made me walk out of one of the lab exams with just my name on the paper. And that did teach me a lesson. No matter how badly you screw your CATs (no pun intended) a night’s study before the term-end is all it takes to a C, given that the examiner is not hammered. As for the chemistry lab, I had to take it up twice because of the irrational rule which made it compulsory to do your lab too if you failed theory. Yeah, that reminds me, VIT taught me what failure feels like. Not once or twice, but I got to learn that lesson five fucking times.

We accepted the fact that our batch has been a bunch of guinea pigs since school. We became the first batch of FFCS or which was also known as FCFS till recently when our juniors defied boundaries (literally) by sleeping in academic buildings. But enough about them. According to FFCS we couldn’t register a subject unless we study its prerequisite. And we all know this rules was never broken, neither in the third semester nor in the sixth.

But all that has passed and so have we. What didn’t kill us made us stronger. After living in Vellore, the place with only three seasons, hot, hotter and hottest, we can live anywhere in the world, take in all the tormenting and come out smiling. We don’t need an official CR to lead us, we can and have stepped up for ourselves and one of our teachers would even testify. Engineering was never our priority. No course ever is. We came together to learn to live and co-exist and now it’s gonna be hard to exist without each other, but we’re engineers, there’s no stopping us. Even lord Ram needed one of our types.

So, let’s get those cams out and also ourselves and try reliving those four years because it’s been a wonderful journey. We may have not learnt what engineering was supposed to teach us but we surely have learnt what life did.

A STUDENT'S KRYPTONITE

I spent four years trying to understand the significance of treating students as lambs and teachers as shepherds. Well, corrupted shepherds of course. And what I understood is that there's nothing to understand. Authorities may continue to speculate modern classrooms as ancient ashrams but that doesn't change the fact that teachers today are no Valmikis or Vyass and no student is an Eklavya or an Aruni. There are exceptions of course and in such cases, the speculative student-teacher relationship need not be enforced; it builds up by itself.

It just feels wrong when a teacher repeats what the books say but behaves as if it's their own hard work of million years, by yelling and mocking students. Whatever happened to, "learning is a two way concept" and "teaching is learning twice".

A teacher's entry in a classroom has become synonymous for dozing time for me. He/she is like an agent armed with notes, mostly digital these days, an authority and the most powerful weapon, the attendance register. No matter how hard you're hit by the sleep bullet, you have to cut off your eye lids or risk being killed by shortage of attendance, a student's Kryptonite. Wouldn't it be a lot better if teachers and students were more like friends? Because c'mon, we all have that one teacher who we all know, including himself/herself, needs more tutorship than his/her students. And the true, learned teachers might become the best friends we ever had with their moral support and guidance.

If colleges really want to create intelligent and independent professionals, how about some independence from the learning stage. Sure we'll screw up but it's the screwing up today that helps you make up a "screwed-up"less future. 

ART OF SCREWING

Life isn't always fair
But u know what you have to do
When you have nobody who cares
You can go on a hunger strike too

When you've got loads of black money
But not a damn clue
And the IT says "we're comin' sonny!"
You have swiss bank to your rescue

You can go ahead and get arrested
With 160,000 bucks
Make a hot chick ur girlfriend
Whose father sells drugs (u kno wat kind)

You can get out of Harvard
In 3 months or lesser
Fake a degree you can only dream of
And hope to become the next premier

Break citizenship rules like a nugget
And you won't have to pay the price
Just in ur power put a puppet
And say you made a sacrifice

Rob your country of wealth
Screw it with scams and lobbying
Do not care about a yogi's health
Spend millions on a terrorist for killing

Deny useful information
Start transferring your blame
You can always eat up ur own nation
Coz gandhi's your god damn name

Now a few secrets will slip out
Gving a glimpse of what your doing
For this is what politics is about
And ofcourse the Art Of Screwing

SAVE ME - 2

Little Red Riding Hood

Like flocks he had

Was for nothing but blabbering good

About stuff a pig would've spared

He can catch your attention

But just to make you wonder

If his is a condition

Of God making a blunder

He may be miles far

But his presence will always cling

Coz your ears his voice can scar

Like a crow attempting to sing

A dinosaur constipated

His laugh sounds like

Face like a lemur frustrated

On his ass being spiked

He's a gift to humanity

Is what he tends to think

But he defines insanity

As his brain tends to shrink

He listens to what he calls music

Like choked donkeys attempting to bray

His hair on head become pubic

Body swaying like a pleasured gay

The list's never ending

But a pause has to come

So I'll end by saying

This guy's a wasted cum

TIRED OF USING TECHNOLOGY (Title adapted)

This one's not mine:

A computer was something on TV

From a science-fiction show of note

A window was something you hated to clean

And ram was the cousin of a goat

Meg was the name of my girlfriend

And gig was a job for the nights

Now they all mean different things

And that really mega bytes.

An application was for employment

A program was a TV show

A cursor used profanity

A keyboard was a piano.

Memory was something that you lost with age

A CD was a bank account

And if you had a 3 inch Floppy

You hoped nobody found out.

Compress was something you did to the garbage

Not something you did to a file

And if you unzipped anything in public

You’d be in jail for a while.

Log on was adding wood to the fire

Hard drive was a long trip on the road

A mouse pad was where a mouse lived

And a backup happened to your commode.

Cut you did with a pocket knife

Paste you did with glue

A web was a spider’s home

And a virus was the flu.

I guess I’ll stick to my pad and paper

And the memory in my head

I hear nobody’s been killed in a computer crash

But when it happens they wish they were dead.

Source: http://www.thatscomedy.com/

Being An 'NRI'

I would like to begin with placing the fact that I’m not an NRI. But everyone except my relatives consider me as a hardcore NRI and some lunatics even go to the extent of calling me a foreigner.


In India NRIs are considered nothing more and less than a reserve and an easy source of money and wealth. For an average Indian an NRI has lost all his/her Indianess and has completely mingled into the culture of the country of his/her residence. It’s owing to this fact that you see so many auto rickshaw/taxi drivers, at the arrival terminal of all Indian airports, trying to speak in English with the NRIs but in vain. The NRIs know very well what India is, perhaps a little more than us. We cannot consider them as fools just because they don’t live in India. Yes that is the only reason why some ill-educated Indians think of NRIs as foolish people.

The moment I tell someone, my parents live outside India, their first impression is that I’m from outside India too. Please guys, I go to Thailand as a tourist just to meet my parents, I’m not from Thailand. I often receive highly annoying comments such as, “you are a rich man, you can buy anything. We are poor people please have some mercy on us.” One of the most annoying, yet funny at the same time, comment was, “you’re from Thailand but you don’t look like a Thai.” Someone needs to educate this piece of crap that just by visiting another country the anatomy of the body doesn’t change. Sometimes they get on my nerves so much that I feel like making them stand in a queue and shooting them one by one (don’t worry people I’m cool). This problem is not just confined to uneducated class from undeveloped areas. One of my friends from Mumbai strongly believes I’m from Thailand and spending a fortune in a day is no big deal for me. I don’t know what they mean when they say India has a high and good standard of education. I don’t even find a standard.

An NRI is expected to spend thousands in day, live life king size and be a fag. And if he/she isn’t doing this, “you are a stain on the brotherhood of NRIs”. BROTHERHOOD OF NRIs? My friends often tell me that I’m not a true NRI because I don’t have a girlfriend, I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, don’t do drugs and I’m not a spendthrift. Thank you guys for calling me an ‘untrue NRI’ but it would be great if you say, “he’s not an NRI”.

There are many more things to say but I shouldn’t disgrace my country, because I’ an Indian, maybe more than anyone else.

I was born, brought up and educated in India. I have Indian O+ve blood in my veins, Indian flesh in my fat body, I love only Indian food and can speak only Indian constitutional languages. I AM AN INDIAN. Get that in your head!!!!

SAVE ME!

My room-mate was a jumbo,
More known for being a dumbo.
He cracked a walnut under his butt,
And thought a slang for fairies was slut.

He looked inhuman,
Because of his belly,
Got stuck in a commode,
Because of his folly.

He would dream of girls,
And would always pray,
That unlike always,
His face wouldn’t scare them away.

Whenever he spoke,
People around were hit,
By the odour of this bloke,
And by his filthy spit.

He stank like a pig,
Drenched in puke,
He killed a skunk,
And became Stinkland’s duke.

How my room-mate was,
I cannot describe,
If you’ve seen a shitting dog,
That’s what he looked like.

Note: Please pardon the language.
No offences to my room-mates, it’s just for fun.

The Superhero

I know a guy,

As thin as paper,

Once I saw him fly,

But it was the wind blowing him over.

Unlike my room-mate,

This flying-machine is lucky,

Girls are attracted to the kid,

Wondering how many months old is he.

He often misses classes,

Depriving us of a gag,

It's the seniors who often,

Zip him in his college bag.

He carries packs of ice,

Saying to prevent transpiration,

But I know he lies,

They're to prevent his evaporation.

How this deformed guy is,

I cannot describe,

If you've seen Shakira shake her belly,

That's how his whole body shakes like.

NOTE: Never turn on the fan or sneeze when this guy's around, it blows him away.

No offence to Shoney!!!