insti life


Four long years of sharing cycles and toothpaste,
And waking up for the 8 o clock class in haste;
Of bunking classes and taking pride in grand slams,
In this place filled with gults, northis, digs & tams!

Lectures get boring with every year,
No quiz or end sem ever brings any cheer..
Putting endless fart at the mess table,
Every inch showing off your btech label..

All the time, known to all by that singular nick,
All the time, looking for that non-existent campus chick!
All the time, finding new ways to get proxy,
All the time, outwitting the prof by being foxy..

Taking and giving treats is part of the game,
Some only the former without any shame..
Cribbing almost becomes an inborn trait,
Every single thing throws up a new bait!

Midnight fart sessions are ever lost in time,
Bunking classes as a result is no big crime;
Wing fart is one thing not to be missed,
Though it may make a few really pissed.

Sangam, Schroeter and fun are all the same,
Whether its cricket, footer or any other game!
No less is the studness on show in LitSoc,
Two good reasons why insti life rock(s).

Sharing the space with the so called non males,
Who ensure that floating around are enough tales..
By chance or choice, put up right next to lib,
Everyone agrees they are quite a strange tribe!

Shaastra and Saarang add to the great times,
Enough things happen to make up such rhymes!
It all ends abruptly after a period of four years,
Leaving none strong enough not to shed tears…

PS: the absence of any mention of guru is, hopefully, striking but then I couldn’t find any word that rhymes well with guru/gnath or the like 😦
PPS: This is quite incomplete in many respects. Put comment if you can suggest improvements

I’d like to thank every single person who has made my stay over the past 4 years on campus memorable and cherished! I’d like to single out a few, in no specific order, who have been more than just friends to me over the years and made every single minute worth living and remembering:
Ankit, Leftit, Aditi, Sameer, Pavan, Aishwarya, Rohit, Purvi, Raghu, Kshitij, Nikhil, Jimmy, (and of course!) Bhaand. And every single of the BT gumbal of 2004/Narmad (Shoban, Harsha, Cupax, Vikram, Santhu) who have helped make my stay in the department/hostel as fun as it has been! Thanks to everyone else in no small measure too!

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It is time for quizzes yet again,
In the ass, it is sometimes a pain.
To catch up with acads, its a chance,
You know, like a short flirty romance.

Much closer becomes the stud in the other wing,
Xeroxed notes take prime place as the in thing;
Setting the Guru registers ringing,
Friends praise, few are heard signing.

PPTs and fundaes are given and taken,
Over dinner tables, problems are spoken,
Getting up early becomes so easy,
While some try to feign being queasy.

Lib turns into a muggu beehive,
Thanks to them, its still alive.
For some, it always remains a strict no-no,
Their abilities, they claim, it brings to a low.

Seniors have just one or two,
They are the fortunate few.
Far tougher quizzes await them,
Be it elec, meta, BT or chem!

Rhymezone wasn’t used for this one,
I write somethings just for vague fun.
I know you wont call this poetry,
But did I ever ask you to?

The last 2 lines intentionally left non-rhyming

The quizzes are finally done,
Its time for some elections fun,
There’s gonna be lots of bickering,
One amongst us is in the reckoning!

Assignments to get done with,
Thankfully none to submit on the fifth,
A surprise quiz in store,
Which none of us adore.

Will the industrial trip come true?
Possible dates are far and few,
A night to socialize and one more,
To bring our care for seniors to the fore.

Its gonna be a hectic month ahead,
How long will we make this thread?
What comments will it elicit?
Or will it any response at all solicit?

Trying my hand at a repeat of a similar one written during the 4th sem.. First post on a new thread amongst the BT gumbal

GJ teaches us Biochem ThermoD,
To take extra classes he is ever ready;
Classes are in no way interesting,
So useless you don’t even feel like crashing!

Grabs B-slot classes does he,
Makes everyone mad, not just me.
Calls backbenchers upfront,
For junta who talk, his eyes hunt.

Takes attendance once in a blue moon,
And he is as unpredictable as a goon,
Keeps tests for those who bunk,
Makes you feel you are gonna flunk.

He keeps talking about igs & bars,
Making you feel as if you’re from Mars,
Derives stupid relations in a long way,
Only to discover somewhere he’s gone astray.

Till last, the course was with chem,
A prof who is no less than a gem,
Him not taking for us is a crime,
I guess its just our bad time..

He complains we dont know how to approximate,
Yet another reason him we hate;
We hope to get out with a decent grade,
And tell yourself some progress we made…

GJ teaches BT junta courses in 3rd and 4th sem. This was written after the 3rd sem course.. So, you can imagine my plight after the end of the 4th sem…

The even semester is back,
In events it does not lack;
There is a lot to look forward to,
Enjoy them lest, later, you should rue.

None can refute that the classes are dull,
Unlike others, there aint any hols for Pongal.
The month of Jan is a bolt out of the blue,
The month end is what all look forward to…

Saarang is held all over Republic Day,
Patriotic feelings are all kept at bay;
A festive mood hangs in the air,
‘Tis for the MCC girls, most care.

CLT is transformed into Bindaas Park,
The hot spot to look for is no more Quark;
There is music to dance to and informals to play,
Bump into a long lost friend, you sure may.

OAT becomes the stage for budding rock stars,
It also plays host to few music czars;
You just cant be sure who the centre of attention is,
It could be an Anna girl or the MCC miss..

The Pro-Shows draw large audience,
To be hysterical, the mood tends;
Popular events are jam and Miss Saarang,
The audience cheer with the full power of their lungs.

Enough said about IITM’s cul-fest,
That some have even come to detest;
The elections are next on the list,
To the prevailing situation, they add a twist.

Campaigning is done, but at what price?
Regionalism rears its ugly head in this exercise;
The posts of cul-secs are fiercely contested,
Apart from anything else, you need a real cool head.

This is soon followed by the hostel nights,
Fun and frolic to go with food and lights;
RGs are prepared and toasts are also made,
Golden memories are preserved, lest they fade.

Talk of apps and placememnts is widespread,
Confused, you find many scratching their head;
Everyone looks forward to IIM calls,
And give treats in restaurants and malls.

As a few seniors take leave,
A big sigh of relief some heave!!
Old memories come rushing back,
Everyone’s progress, you try to keep track.

The memories make many teary eyed,
There is no place for the emtions, to hide;
The paucity of time strikes you hard,
With great memories, your mind is scarred.

Freshies and 2nd yrs alike, put hazaar fight,
Become Shaastra or Saarang co-ords, they might;
For many, it is a matter of great pride,
Whether its of any use, only time will decide.

The sun starts beating down in March,
The soil of Mother Earth, it does parch;
Afty classes become even more boring,
While the prof hopes no one is snoring!!

The end sems finish in a week or so,
Non-acad activities reach a new low.
All look forward to the summer hols,
It promises lots of boredom in (the) long haul(s).

Wrote it sometime in 4th sem beginning when classes were quite boring and Saarang was still THE thing to look forward to..

I am in Narmad’s 7th wing,
The rooms have no bells to ring,
Each room has enough space for three,
The wing, in gen, is busy as a bee.

There’s leftit who’s so thin,
You might mistake him for a pin,
He is the wing’s enthu gay gult god,
Taru, his roomie, is like a tiny fat pod.

They share their room with Boshidi,
I wonder if he has a Didi..
Anima, Theory & Jimmy are their neighbours,
I doubt if Jimmy is a him or a her.

Two in meta and one in aero,
Theory looks like he’s lost his bone marrow,
Anima has his own age-old comp,
Which me maintains without much pomp.

The next room houses Cupax, Gigolo and Semen,
Often it is filled with gults numbering ten,
Cupax & Semen in elec, and Jiggs in BT,
The odd one out is me.
Cupax is straight out of Kota,
Semen, sometimes, is a PITHA. (phew, i surely wouldnt say the same now.. wonder what made me say it then!)

Sadhu, next room, is in CompSci,
I heard he’s a big fan of Brett Lee,
Dakkan and Chamya are quiet boys,
Never dare to raise their voice,
Chamya is good at dance,
Dakkan always looks like he’s in a trance.

270 has Psycho, Sai Kiran & Nil, 2 CS & a civil,
To stay with such roomies, you need power of will.
Psycho is hated by all,
Junta, north or south, short or tall.
Nil is alter-ego of Semen,
Sai’s friends come here gen.

Karthikeyan n Bal Subs mug all the time,
Now, isn’t that an unpardonable crime?
BalSubs isn’t in the room almost always,
He is to found only during quiz days.
Vamshi is at the other end of the spectrum,
He sometimes appears like a scum.

Cancer has a pseud comp,
To go with a high-funda cell,
Mukund is also known as LKB,
Not much of interest is he.
Petu, with a nice belly, is in Chem,
Like all, he’s in his second sem.

The Nigam bros have great friends of the fairer sex,
Surprisingly, neither of them wear specs. (Pardon my want to rhyme 😛)
Thanu is affectionately called Om,
He too makes frequent visits home.

Prasanna never attends class,
A pseud laptop he has;
Naresh in Civil & Harsh in EP,
The former you rarely see.

The last room has KT, Rakesh & Paedo,
Interaction among them is very low,
Paedo is unlike anyone else,
KT is amongst the gults, who else?!?

Wrote this one in 2nd sem, when the enthu to write poems was just catching on.. Sincere apologies to anyone whose feelings are hurt but I dint mean any!

The funda of fitting is to and fro,
To Goodman’s tactics we should bow,
Many consider him a pain in the ass,
Including that lonely female lass.

Hexagons & cubes we make,
Some blades, in the process, we break,
Its his approval we vouch for,
His rejection turns us sour.

Getting bumps is very normal,
He makes you feel as if you are paranormal,
There can even be a pothole,
You feel like kicking Goodman with your shoe sole.

Champering, he says, is the finishing touch,
But the file, you find, is difficult to clutch.
He orders you to do it on one side,
Do it on both and you’ve got no place to hide!

There is a wide variety of tools,
But, to use them, are we really fools?
The entrance even exhibits a dick file,
Is the name meant to provoke rile?

His ASSisstant is a puny little guy,
To point out mistakes, he never feels shy,
The Plastics guy knows a lot more,
And he aint such a big bore.

Our hands, in the end, are filled with grease,
Some junta even take a repeat piece!!
All of us use a bastard file,
On a face, you can’t find a smile.

It makes you tired and exhausted,
You feel like crashing in your bed,
In the end, you get a ‘B’ grade,
Into thin air, your efforts fade..

Fitting was one of the workshops in first year. An interesting, painful, but now thinking back, enjoyable, experience.. Captured in the way I can do it best