SHOPPING FOR ANSWERS

SPRING 2007

Early days, exciting days. When Life wasn’t a bitch and when spending three bucks at the university hangout was the normal pitch. Three bucks got you an iced tea; the three bucks would last for over three hours accompanied with slender conversations and gender pretensions.

College was a joint and it was nice. It was the sunshine in the winters which everyone looked forward to; it was the dash of spice in a plain chilly-chicken. It was a time when all of us were neither strong nor tough; it was a time when we were worried about the future but it never showed on our lousy faces. We were just busy being us, busy making plans, busy playing perception at our parties, busy laughing over Vincent’s explicit jokes (it goes up to 69 volumes) and busy with our very own “American Dream”.

Terence - Nevada will be nice.
Patrick - True, we can visit Las Vegas which is just 85 miles away.
Vincent - We’ll become millionaires over a single game of blackjack.
Terence - But we must visit the OC.
Patrick - It will be so nice.
Vincent - I would like to play poker at Vegas.
Terence - Asswipe, have you ever played poker?
Patrick - Vincent knows shit about poker.
Vincent - Fuckers, it’s about poking a sharp instrument at places which have never seen sunlight.

Few days later, we received our application mails from the University of Reno, Nevada (UNR) and that’s when we sang along the lines of “Sweet Home Nevada”. That day, as we sat on the lush green grass at Delhi School of Economics (DSE), we discussed about the Ivy Leagues.

Monica - You know, UNR is not an Ivy League.
Patrick - Well, it’s almost impossible for us to get into one.
Terence - We should be happy with UNR.
Monica - But an Ivy League will be excellent.
Ved - Hey mane, I think I’ve seen Poison Ivy!!
Vincent - Oh jackass!
Terence - Hahaha.
Patrick - Seriously, hahaha.
Terence – By the way, I want a Stanford sweatshirt.
Monica - Cut it out, guys.
Patrick - Sorry babeah (blushing).
Monica - See, we need to keep talking to the Ivy Leagues so that they realise our potential.
Terence - Fair enough, but I have a question.
Monica - What?
Terence - Okay, we’ll keep talking to them, but will they talk to us?


SUMMER 2007

This summer was really harsh and there’s nothing that can be said about it.


AUTUMN 2007

People refer to autumn as FALL. True. We’ve fallen into the depths of the ocean and while many wonder when they’d rise above, there are some who wonder if they’d just float, sink or swim. The funniest part is that people think 'Breach Candy' is some candy available on the beach.

Things are slowly turning normal. We hear voices that tell us not to let LIFE think it’s tougher than us and on the other hand, they say that there is a first time for everything. Vincent told me that we were suffering from our own ghosts and that only time would serve to prove us wrong.

Recently, a junior hailed us in a full college environment. What supreme feeling we went through; Vincent and Terence felt the power of Royalty. Maybe we’re lunatic enough to consider it but we’re smart enough to acknowledge it. One of our most loved professor said- “Motives fail, ideas fail, actions fail but people don’t”.

A classmate asked Terence very sarcastically, “You admire that?”; Terence replied, “No” and as he flicked his zippo (Vincent asshole) open and as he lit up a cigarette, Terence completed his sentence, “…I don’t admire that, I fucking respect that”.

Post college life is difficult, very difficult. Everyday, you feel down and beat but still somewhere you are not beaten. Like Patrick says, “The nesting period is over, now we step into the jungle where everyone is out to prove that they are better than you and where in one inch of a second, you can be left far far behind, so welcome to the jungle called LIFE.”

A month ago, some jackass told us that Patrick deceived the ROYALTY by getting into an institution while the other two did not. He added on by pathetically commenting, “What kind of a friend is he?”, and then we answered, without a single doubt in our heads-
“… The best kind”.

Anyway, as of now;
Duke Patrick is in IIMC.
Sir Vincent is in Zee News.
Lord Terence is Online.

Now as we wait for WINTER 2007, this story will continue and then, I’ll let you know when I know.

THE AIR NEAR MY FINGERS

“Dude, party tomorrow night. Make yourself available. Bring shorts, it will be a little humid.”

said Patrick.

Immediately Terence gathered mental visuals of smoke and some good high spirited conversations. Nostalgia hits you when your mind races through thoughts of the glorious days that have gone by faster than a high-rise building jump. There was a time when they would fly higher than the weather and there was also a time when they would spend nights dancing on no music. But probably, the times were over and Terence suspected that he was growing old. Speaking of which, Terence recalled something that a wise-crack once wrote on the last desk during his 1st year at college-

“Growing old is mandatory; Growing up is optional”.

Just like a pilot of the storm who leaves no trace, the parties they had had been on the lines of 1976, pissing on the border or Kashmir as a barb wired state. Barb Wire reminded the boys of Pamela Anderson and she reminded them of Borat who further reminded them of the Borat conversation they'd have on multiple networking sites. Therefore, almost any brain storming session reminded them of college life. So be it, assume that college is going to be inseparable for some years.

That night, Terence faintly remembered talking to the guard at the Vasant Vihar house. The gentleman thought like we did and asked how many attractive women would be coming. Hitesh told him not to learn to fly as that was his department. Minutes later, all of them were inside the house. The party hosted 15 young individuals who had just stepped into the harsh world of insanity. It started well with people laughing on some imported dope and hunter beer. Then towards midnight, things turned funny. Terence was on the comfortable couch, watching people and collecting thoughts. He suddenly “saw” Hitesh telling someone that he had shaved off his head because his hair was blocking the intellectual thoughts that was trying to enter his skull.

Initially, it was strange for Terence and Vincent as they were sitting in a room full of people who had 'bright future' stamped on their foreheads. These were people from reputed institutions and the two were two people from broken illusions. For the record, Terence and Vincent are in a 'oh fuck' zone, not the 'fucked' situation and pray, till next year this time, if they don’t make any progress then they’d be presidents of the 'fucked' zone.

Anyway, like some jackass said- 'The show must go on'. Vincent was in full swing towards the last quarter of the party. Chatting away to glory like a baboon who needed a banana. By the way, Hitesh was still blabbering his heart out to his newly-found psychiatrist who threw up nearly 76 times. The fact of the matter is simple; Sir Vincent’s joy knew no boundaries as he started transcendental post structuralist existentialism with 9 members of the party who belonged to the female fraternity.

Patrick and Monica were arguing who’d have the next joint and Terence was in a sad state after taking a few joints because it hit, it hit. Meanwhile, Hitesh was still pouring his heart out and Vincent was still scoring points. When it rains more than ever, that’s when you’ll know who holds the umbrella for you.

This party really reminded few of us of the old times. Like Woodstock 69, guess we’ll all drift away but it will still be remembered. The Gurgaon 36 hour fest, the north campus romps, the royalty pub visits, the hallucinations and the many blah blah blehs.