Wednesday, September 24, 2008


Yes, it's been a long long time. Sadly,the University has no interest in the creative lives of it's students. It's more busy testing our survival instincts. But no more explanations.

So we joined M.A. Cool. What we didn't know was that M.A, in the University's definition meant Mental Asylum (as B-30, with an admirable show of astute thought,inscribed on their door). When it's not dogs taking up residence in your bathrooms or -worse still- in your rooms, then it's Bais who mop the entire corridor with the same unwashed mop with which they mopped up the doggie pee (eeeewwww!!). I shall restrain myself to the point format to curtail ranting. So here goes:

You know you're firmly entrenched in M.A at the University when:

1)You start assaulting your poor defenseless floor-mate while she sleeps, just for the heck of it.In fact,you measure the days worth by the number of times you make her scream.

2)People stop jumping and running to the aid of the aforementioned floor-mate,when the former point is played out since, "it's so common now"

3)One actually practices the axiom 'early to bed and early to rise': only in our case it's early in the morning and early in the afternoon respectively.

4)Ones metabolism resembles an alien life form's: resulting in loud singing (at the least)in early hours, when normal people indulge in lala-land fantasies.

5)Your search for healthy food leads you to the nearest Subway, almost everyday.

6)You become adept at pushing 200 words to 500 words just by force of will.

7) You check for doggie pee before you put your foot down on the corridor floor.

8)Pepsi is your life-line.

9)You haven't read fiction in...hell you can't remember since when!

10)Second Hand smoke is the air you breathe.

11)We wash clothes at 2 am.

12)Songs are written in praise of the praise-worthy campus shop and it's owner.

13) You spend hours plotting the demise of the internet guy: who's services are @#%&*

14) You can't even plan your escape 'cause you don't know when the holidays are.

This perhaps throws some light on the life and times of the hostelite/student at the University. We welcome new comers with open arms: especially if they bear food, which will be handy when the hunger pangs hit. Sometime before sunrise :D

Monday, September 01, 2008

In a Pickle

On the basis of the vigorous endorsement of the place by fellow hostelite MonaLisa, Pickles was chosen as the victim of our gastronomic attack.Mona was ecstacic in her praise of the place.Just listening to her would have a foodie running to the place on barefeet. A sumptuous buffet for a mere 250 bucks and a variety of dessert was ample bait to lure us. You may be wondering what the motive behind this eating expedition was.Well,it was the first 1st since the commencement of our sojourn at the University. It was in celebration of our survival that we were venturing forth. At least that was our excuse.

We wished to make the most of the buffet(meaning leave nothing for the losers who happened to come after us)and on Mona's advice, decided to set out early.In a weak moment, Firestone and I succumbed to Fashunista's (room-mate)urging and actually conceded to move away from Slobville and appear in what is referred to as haute-couture. These miraculous events themselves should have warned us of the eventful evening to follow.

Following a small skirmish with an over charging auto-driver, and some confusion regarding the route, the three of us- finery unruffled- arrived at our destination at around 7.15. Tacky name notwithstanding, Pickles turned out to be a posh little outfit. The kind of place you take your hapless buddy when she says she'll treat.Confident in the knowledge that we were safe from over expenditure, we sashayed into the place. There was no sign of a buffet. This did cause a twinge of anxiety,but we ignored the little niggle and asked the receptionist when the siege officially began. "9:30" , she said with a smile. All three of us looked at our watches simultaneously- it was 7.30. Hanging on to the hope that the receptionist was dazzled by our awe inspiring beauty and the sudden blast of our benevolence, we asked again. Only to receive the same answer.

While Firestone and I stood with jaws hanging, Fashunista quickly got us seated before we blew up.Which, in hindsight, wasn't the best idea. Now that we were sitting, how the hell do we get out without seeming like the complete cheapskates we were. It wouldn't have been a problem in namma Chennai- but the place being new and all, our skins were still rather tender. I believe I speak for all of us when I say that at that moment we wanted to kill Monalisa- very slowly.

Trying to play the casual card we coolly accepted the menu and looked at it, admirably hiding our winces at the price range (200 bucks for a burger!!! 90 bucks for a stupid soup!)It didn't help that the waiter was hovering around like a hopeful fly- which compelled us into ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. While we waited for our soups feeling like bugs caught in a Venus-flytrap and contemplated on different ways to torture Mona, the flint in Firestone's head sparked off and she came up with a brilliant plan.

Following her instructions I missed-called her and she began a fake conversation regarding a hysterical friend stranded near some bridge (which became a flyover after a while since we didn't know of any bridges nearby). While Fashunista and Firestone kept up the conversation I frantically motioned the waiter and canceled our orders in the name of an emergency. Of course Firestone very obligingly supported the scenario by continually saying "calm down.." and "don't cry.." into the phone. She kept up the phone call until she realised her phone wasn't in silent mode.Thankfully by this time we'd managed to get out and even jumped into an auto. Which is when we finally burst out laughing.

We did have dinner. The watchman at the biriyani place did a double take when we entered.And a sweeping glance told us we were at SlobCentral. Ignoring the curious stares and mumbling curses at Fashunista for getting Firestone and me dolled(?)up, we got ourselves biriyani which tasted like ambrosia to our starving palates. The sight of the comparatively small bill,which would have been double the amount if we hadn't escaped from the Pickles pickle, added to the sweetness of the moment.We returned to the warm- er... sweltering- arms of the hostel. And who should be waiting for us but Monalisa!

We didn't kill her. But we made sure she wished we had.

All in all- it was a memorable first, full of firsts. May it be the first of many such firsts.