Of Students And Exams

DISCLAIMER : Don't expect this post to be a rant on the society and its undue pressure on students. Also don't expect it to help you in this time of dismay. It will probably make it worse. Additionally, we apologize for not adding the one the one thing that people read us for, i.e., Baba Sehgal jokes.


The results season is here. By now most of you must have already planned where to hide your parent's phones when the calls from those nosy relatives start coming in. Can't do anything about the landline though ! As usual when the results come in, 95% of the people will cry in a corner of their room and the rest, well, they don't give a fuck. Now, we all like thinking that we belong to the latter group but the truth is we all belong to the former one. Don't frown, I read it in a newspaper so it must be true, no ?

This particular time in India (especially for twelthies)  could very well be termed : Love, Exam aur Dhoka ( cheesy much ! ). No sex in the the title for Indian students because lets face it if you are a twelthie in India, chances are that the only private parts that you must have seen by now are yours, Sasha Grey's and those of that actress from whatever mallu porn you enjoy watching. I really don't know what kind of porn girls watch. But does any boy know really ? Some important questions about life these are. Another one being, was Jayalalitha really a hot babe in her younger days ? Is Mayawati a masked vigilante, the dark knight of Lucknow ? 

Ah, curiosity can be mankind's best or worst friend. It might sometimes end up teaching you some of the most important lessons for life and sometimes it may take you the deep dark corners of the internet full of dudes with double dicks.

( A little piece of advice : Okay, any saint who has made it till this point after all the porn talk, never google the words 'girls' and 'cup' together ever or you will be traumatized for life and I know every wanker worth his porn must already know what I am talking about ! )

Wow, so after that mammoth digression, as I was saying the exam season kicks off in our country early in the year with much friendly love about failing together or as CBSE and society  calls it, getting 80 % marks. And as it so often happens, one day before the test each and every friend gives you a detailed account of all the chapters they are leaving for the exam and make you feel all smug and confident about your preparation. THE LOVE 

And then there is the actual exam, which for my junior's knowledge I might say is like getting a colonoscopy while lying on a bed of 1000 nails. No seriously, I am not kidding ! THE EXAM

Finally comes the wretched results season and the betrayal it accompanies with it as all your friends get 90% above with the 'village idiot' getting 95% and you get potatoes and onions to sell in your future career as a street hawker. THE DHOKA 

On a serious note, I always see so much being written about the exam season ( not that we don't need it) everywhere but there is rarely any good material on results season which is quite bizarre. The students need it more at this point. I have seen so many students shutting out the world and sulking after the exam results. I too, for one, have sulked a lot at times but that is what you kind of expect from a traditional Indian nerd. I was supposed to be the geek, right ? Now see a non-geek might say what's the difference between the two and that infuriates me. But, more on that sometime later. 

My point is that there is no use shutting out the world. Got a bad result ? Talk to your parents, talk to your friends, talk to anyone who listens. It feels a lot better when you know that this is just a temporary phase and you a have LOT more to look out for.

At this point of time all that the students need to know, all that they need to be told is that they have done alright and anybody who tells them otherwise is smoking the same pot that you will be smoking after seeing your results. 

- The Geek 

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The Enchantress

DISCLAIMER: This article mainly focuses on the physical beauty of women. If you can't handle it, please don't read any further. Also, please don't think I am shallow and creepy. I am just a stupid admirer of the feminine form. This does not for once mean that I am not appreciative of their inner beauty.

“Women! What can you say? Who made 'em? God must have been a fuckin' genius. The hair... They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls... just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips... and when they touched, yours were like... that first swallow of wine... after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm. Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns... or secondhand Steinways. What's between 'em... passport to heaven. I need a drink.”

          -Col. Frank Slade (Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman)

If there is one thing in the world that acts as Kryptonite as well as an Arc Reactor (Non-superhero fans, please refer Google) for men, then its women. The above lines by Al Pacino do reflect the sentiments of every man in this planet quite aptly. Since, I reside in a boys’ hostel in an Engineering college, it basically means that lethargy, procrastination and pot are my best friends which kind of dulls down my mind. So any trip to the outside universe buzzes my mind up. I start noticing things in a very poetic manner. This brought me to the topic about women.

In my recent trip to Delhi, I saw a variety of women. Now don’t get me wrong. I do see a variety of women everyday in college but they are either my teachers or women in items found in my hidden folders. But jokes apart, I actually saw a few women in this trip, not in a way of just seeing them, but closely observing them (not her measurements you pervy bastards). But, I’d like to focus on one particular damsel.

I was half asleep in the train, daydreaming about how I was partying on a Yacht with Rakhi Sawant and Poonam Pandey and how they were stroking my, uh—hair. Then suddenly I was awoken by this ambrosial perfume that sent down an eternal pleasure right from my nostrils to my funny parts. I tried to locate the source of the fragrance and there i saw this woman of not more than 25 years, having a slender mermaid-like figure gliding down the aisle towards me.

Now, the thing is that luck has been a sucker on me. Never have I ever got a hot female travelling companion. It has always been either some snoring uncle or annoying children or fat aunties. But then, jab upar wala deta hai toh chhapad faad ke deta hai. So, this goddess-like woman sits opposite to me and as soon as that happened, I went from my awkward daydream pose to my hot James Bond pose and slowly started sipping water from my paper cup in a manner Mr. Bond sips his martini.

Facing such a situation for the first time, I did the only logical thing I could do. I started fiddling with my phone in a very suave manner, scrolling through my contacts and p*rn collection and shit. With the corner of my eye I saw that she took out a book and started reading it. I thought to myself, “Ground control to Major Tom, coast’s clear. You’re clear to zero-in on the target.” Well, a pretty unusual thing happened. Thoughts just vanished from my mind and for a brief moment I was stunned by her sheer beauty. She wore a simple red-coloured full sleeve top and a long, flowing, blue skirt. She had feline facial features much like Olivia Wilde. Her skin was the perfect tone of brown— not uncooked, not burnt, but perfectly roasted. She had these big, doe-like, hazel eyes with the slightest traces of mascara. Her hair was of the type they show in shampoo commercials. I was just overwhelmed at this sight and for a moment I forgot about the seven hells—my life. Her supple form swayed metronomously with the movement of the train, almost in an angelic fashion. I kept watching her very skilfully, through my cellphone’s camera and after my brain got numbed from being enchanted by her aura, I dozed off with a smile on my face. When I got up, alas! She was nowhere to be seen. And then suddenly I finally understood the meaning of the lines written by John Keats:-

“A Thing of Beauty is a joy forever.”

-The Freak

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