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The Literary Club Inscription 2018

Designed by Yasasvi V Peruvemba Back cover by Ruchika Agrawal Artwork by Kalakriti Club IITI




































If you don’t pick up a book we hope you pick up this magazine to whet your appetite and then crave for more.

This year we’ve resurrected the theme structure, although it’s not so much of a theme as it is a label to ease you into grasping the feel of every single piece in these pages, in case that was too difficult for you.

In all seriousness, a lot of time and soul has gone into these articles. I can only hope that you, the readers, can appreciate and respect each of our points of view. We all look at life through different lenses. It is not easy, standing apart from the crowd to let your presence be felt. Only a few have the courage to do it. The colors you see in these pages are not just a trick of the light, but the sincere feelings of people like you and me, attempted to be conveyed through words. We hope that we could get the message across. This magazine, as always, wouldn’t have been possible if not for the guidance of our graduating seniors, who walked by our side as subordinates, partners, and mentors. This is our farewell to them.

Editor’s Note


Bitan Paul

Bitan Paul Chief Editor, The Literary Club

Welcome to the 7th edition of Inscription, the annual magazine of IIT Indore, brought to you by The Literary Club. This magazine is for the sluts, who just need good entertainment with no strings attached; for the loners, who need someone to stay; for the stoners, who need something to compete with their high. It is for the nihilists, who can’t make sense of anything around them in the universe (yes, we have the cure); for the elitists, who can stay true to themselves by consuming this brew of creativity; for the agnostics, who need proof to believe in a higher power; for the believers, who are certain that nothing can cure them of their delusion. It is what you want it to be.

That’s the beauty of literature.





and laughed at, wore similar glasses to school. She was never ashamed of me in school. She would never mind introducing me as her brother to all her friends and teachers. She made me happy and cheerful, quite like yellow. And most importantly, for all she had done for me, never ever did I feel an air of vanity around her. I never felt disabled with her around. I felt normal, I felt accepted, and I felt white. But I don’t know why she did this.

A Remarkable Palette


lack! That is how I feel. She is dead to me now. How could she do this to me? I am her brother and yet! How could she treat me like this? I walked back home dejected and disappointed. All of it, all of it had been a lie. It all seems so grey to me now.

I was born with achromatopsia. It took a while for everybody to notice my inability to distinguish between colours. My sister, Ariana who is twelve years old now, tells me I was only about a year old when the family had doubts regarding this condition of mine. I could never tell colours apart. My family was worried about how I would grow up, but my sister wasn’t. When I was only a couple of years old, she told me that I was alright, and that colours were overrated anyway. That was the first time I felt light blue. There was a time when I believed she was colourblind too. I remember the way she described things to me, without the slightest hint of them being coloured, without making me feel as if I was missing something big. She associated colors with feelings, unlike most of you, I don’t feel anger. I feel scarlet. And that I owe to her.

The real test for me and my family was three years ago, when my schooling began. I had to wear a special type of glasses which helped me get a slight idea of different colours. My sister who didn’t want her three year old brother mocked


I sat on the porch outside our house, frowned and was full of brown. After the insult I had to face at school, I knew my sister had been lying to me this whole time. She had said I was good at it. She had said I was better than her at it. She had said kids my age don’t usually do it as well as I did it. And I did it so frequently with her! I felt violet.

Shine On, You Crazy Diamond Whenever I get to witness A rainbow in resplendent glory I wonder if the pot of gold Has a happy ending to its story I hope it hasn’t lost Its will to sparkle and shine Cast away in a closet Subject to the vagaries of time

Everybody had laughed at me. They had mocked me. Even Matthew! I believed he was my friend. I felt green around him but now it just feels amber. And she is to blame for all of it. As I finished this thought, I heard the metal door open. It was her. She walked to me and asked me, “Cobb, what is wrong? Why are you so orange?” to which I replied, “It is you. You lied to me. They all laughed at me in school. All because of you! ” She sat next to me and asked me, “I am so sorry. I feel deep yellow. Can you tell me what happened? ” She pulled me closer, put her arm around my shoulders. I felt truly pink as I told her what happened after Ms. Abigail had asked who among us could solve a Rubik’s cube.

And to the sinister gaze Of hungry, heartless men. Their eyes, having strained from Chasing rainbow trails too often. Their feet, having swollen from Days and days of keeping up. Their minds, ravaged by greed Bear no signs of letting up.

I hope these deluded wayfarers Realize they don’t reserve the right To take from the pot what isn’t theirs Leaving behind a carcass, dark as night Devoid of any spirit or shine. And with bated breath, I wait For that day to come soon When it can step out of the closet And roam freely on a busy noon Dance into the dusk, with gay abandon And shimmer in the light of the moon.

- Aditya Deo

- Anmol Mansingh THE LITERARY CLUB




The Letter Shri Sanjay Leela Bhansali

|| Shri Sholayveer Karni Sena ||

Sanjay Leela Bhansali Films Pvt Ltd. 601/B, Swait Mitra CHS, Gulmohar Cross Road No. 7 JPVD Scheme, Juhu, Andheri West, Mumbai 400049

28/01/2038 Dated : ..............................

Subject: Advice for strict adherence to the authentic historical facts in your much publicised proposed film on Rani Basanti of Ramgarh. We have come to know through various reliable sources that you are portraying an imaginary character (alleged to be the usual love story type to mint money) of Rani Basanti of Ramgarh who is a famous ICON of Sholayveers’ age old culture, valour & tradition, aan-maan-shaan. Hence, we forewarn you well in advance that there should be no deviation or distortion of history in projection of the iconic character of Rani Basanti and the related chronological events in this film.

We have heard very reliable rumours about there being a dream sequence in your movie that questions the character of Rani Basanti and therefore that of all Sholayveer women. You are just a director and hence do not know as much as we Sholayveers do about our history and our culture. The brave Raja Veeru, after whom we take on the name Sholayveer, and Rani Basanti, were captured by the barbaric, looting dacoit king Gabbar Singh (who was a muslim). Raja Veeru was tied to the pole, tortured and threatened to be killed. Gabbar Singh, made an offer to Rani Basanti that if she would dance for him, he would let them go. It was then that Raja Veeru, in his manly voice said the immortal words “NAHIN! Basanti in kutton ke saamne mat naachna”. And Rani Basanti, the noble queen with her head held high and proud under her saffron ghunghat, refused to dance for Gabbar and preferred to die instead. In fact she did not even look at any other male, other than Raja Veeru, thus becoming the epitome of feminine virtue. In fact, the sun reflecting off her bright saffron dress is said to have blinded Gabbar momentarily. However, you have gone ahead and released a teaser on YouTube for a song in which the chaste Rani Basanti is shown wearing the virtuous saffron, dancing in front of Gabbar singing “Jab Tak Hai Jaan Jaane Jahan Main Nachungi”. It is slur upon the valour of Maa Basanti and the thousands of Ramgarh women who refused to dance. How can a Royal queen be shown dancing without heeding her husband’s words? This is a distortion of history, an affront to our women, our honour and our culture. In Ramgarh we have a saying, ‘Garhon me garh Ramgarh, baki sab garhaiya. Raniyon me rani Basanti, baki sab gadhaiya’ ‘Ramgarh is the only fort, the rest are mere fortresses, Basanti is the only queen, the rest are mere donkeys’

You may argue about the validity of whether Rani Basanti was a real person based on research by your so called ‘secular’ historians. But we request you to pay heed to our sentiments regarding this matter. Therefore you should screen the movie for us and release it only after we approve of it. You are also requested to make any edits or cuts that we may suggest regarding scenes that do not portray our brave community in positive light. Basanti Maa is our mother and we are descended from her. We are a proud race and if you offend us, you will face the consequences. The entire state will rise up against you. This is without prejudice.

Gautam Krishnan

............................... Gautam Krishnan (President)




A Different Perspective


ecently I had the immense pleasure of visiting the beautiful and mesmerizing Maheshwar fort with my friends. It was filled with intricate architectural designs along with wonderful carvings in the stones of the temple and the fort. Apart from the beautiful memories, adventures on the banks of the river Narmada, some history lessons about Ahilya Devi Holkar and Maheshwar, one of the things that I remember about the trip was how my friend (esteemed president of the literary club) described the fort. “How did people manage to build Forts that could last for so many centuries?”

To be sure, the oldest forts in India are over a thousand years old. And looking at these historical buildings, it might be tempting to conclude that maybe we just don’t build like we used to, unlike the medieval times; that we used to build with much better quality; and the buildings were designed to last much longer. But is this really true? It is sort of weird that with all of our technological advancements, we are still building worse than what we used to. Now, to answer this question, we need to dive deeper and explore an invisible force at play. A statistical one. During World War 2, the British were losing many bomber aircrafts to the German forces when they operated and flew over occupied territory. Planes on vitally important missions were shot down so often that the British Air force decided that something needed to be done quickly. All the losses had cost a fortune to the military, so they had but one choice - To add Armour to these Aircrafts.


But of course they couldn’t just add armour to the whole body of the plane because of various restraints. There was a limit to the weight of armour they could add - the planes would be a lot heavier and too fuel inefficient to fly. So the British had to be smart about where they would add armour to the aircraft so as to maximize the chance that it would return home safe after a mission. So they examined all the planes that had returned from the previous missions and noted where those planes had been shot. The logic was to add the armour where the planes were getting shot the most and that should protect more planes against the enemy, right? WRONG. This is a very bad approach to the problem they were trying to solve as the aircrafts that they examined were the ‘Survivors’. What they were missing were the aircrafts that had not survived and it’s those you don’t see whose hits you need to account for and protect against. But how are you to know where the planes that didn’t survive got hit? Well, the answer is simpler than you’d think. To begin with, we can assume that the aircrafts are hit randomly and the planes which ‘Survived’ were not hit in the parts which are critical to the fate of the plane. So the places where the survivors are not getting hit, are the places which need armour. Seems counterintuitive at first but when you think about it, it is quite obvious.

This phenomenon has a name. “Survivorship bias”. It’s the logical error and the human tendency to concentrate on the people or things that made it past some selection process and to overlook those that did not, typically because of their lack of visibility. The question that I posed earlier could be explained using this bias. Quality of construction has not deteriorated over time. It is actually much better than before. What is observed is so, because we’re not looking at all of the buildings that existed back then, but only a small select subset which have ‘Survived’ till now while ignoring all of the rest which did not ‘Survive’, just like the planes that crashed and were never accounted for. It would be quite logical to conclude that the buildings that did survive were of the best build and were maintained over the years. Hence, they don’t really give you an idea about how buildings in general used to be built centuries ago. So there we have it. We have explained the problem. What next? How is some perplexing statistical oddity going to help me in life? Well, survivorship bias is applicable in much more than a few select cases. If you look around carefully, you can spot a few.


You might have heard your parents complain about modern music and say, ”Music was better in the old days”. Again, is that really true? Or do they only remember the few good songs, completely ignoring all the other countless bad ones?

One of the many cases you can probably relate to is in the advertisement industry. Specifically, the advertisements of coaching institutes. We have all seen coaching institutes brag about producing AIR top 10 in IIT JEE and that you could be the next if you join that institute. What is often not thought about or rather not discussed is what happens to the rest of the students who do not produce such results. What about those who didn’t ‘Survive’ JEE (no pun intended) and who are probably not in an IIT? You could end up one like that too if you join that institute. Following up on the JEE example, there is one case which we are also quite familiar with. We’ve all heard of musicians, movie stars, athletes or CEOs of billion dollar companies who dropped out of college to pursue their dreams. We all love to hear about the next Slumdog Millionaire and the media loves it even more. There is less focus on far too many people that may be skilled and determined and worked hard just as much as their successful counterparts, but failed to ever find success because of factors beyond their control. We can’t expect the media to cover the story of an entrepreneur who founded a company which happened to fail after a month. That’s not what the media does. So only focussing on people who have achieved success in their lives is a grave mistake. It’s like focussing only on the planes that survived and hence, arriving at the wrong conclusion.

there’s a paradox to it. Because the one thing we know about the people who survived is that they took the risk in the first place, that they ignored the safe and logical choice, and tried something which was statistically unlikely. Often, survivorship bias only offers you a good and safe strategic decision ‘At the Moment’. So, I guess if you feel you really want to do something, something that you once aimed for, but stopped, because of the fear of failure, you should at least try it, keeping in mind that there is a high probability of failure. Regret is a powerful emotion and you’ll always have that itchy feeling at the back of your mind wondering what would have happened had you tried. It is better to try than to take the alternative where you face certain failure.

- Varun Patil

Succesful personalities are often asked to share tips on how to achieve success. You may have heard them say that anyone can become succesful in their lives just by being determined and working hard. “Try and you shall achieve your goal”. However, this too is an example of survivorship bias. The people who did become successful are the survivors while all the overwhelming failures are hidden from public perception. By focusing on the successful, we are putting armour on the parts of the plane that are hit instead of where it should have been put. But there’s a catch! While understanding survivorship bias and its various forms can help you make informed and logical decisions in your life, at the same time, I feel



THE LITERARY CLUB Priya was a young working woman. Her husband and family were always motivating and supportive. She was ambitious and often worked late, being the workaholic that she was. Rama was a middle-aged housewife. She was the ideal woman according to some sections of the society, and had just married her daughter off. ...You must be thinking what all of this is about.

Little Sarah was raped by her own relative. Clean hands? He didn’t even have clean intentions.

Sunaina went through pain every day at her own house. Pain was inflicted on her by her cousin. She remained silent because she was given chocolates to keep her mouth shut and was receiving so much love.

Indignant Crimson


n a bright spring evening, Sarah took her first breath. The little bundle of joy was her mother’s heartbeat. She had a glow of happiness on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. She had no worries in the world. Her mother wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her if she didn’t find them clean enough. Sunaina was a five year old. Belonging to the Royal family, she maintained grace and elegance even at such a young age. Her waist-long hair, the way she spoke, her inability to see anyone sad; every little thing about her was adorable. One would just want to hug her or take her home.

Chhavi was a farmer’s daughter. The eight year old loved to study and her father wanted to educate her. Like any other child her age, she was curious and loved adventures. Her escapades involved exploring the forest behind their small house.

Like any other teenager, Dia was in the transition phase from a little girl to a young adult. She was enthusiastic about her career and had big dreams. She was a bubbly, fashionable girl. Her parents supported her and didn’t restrict her in any way.


Just like any other day, Chhavi went to the forest on her little expedition. She never returned. What returned was her ill-treated and abused body. Dia was followed, abducted and raped by strangers when she was returning from her tuitions. Priya was drugged and raped at an office party.

Rama was molested while returning from the market.

They blame her dress, they blame her age, they blame her lifestyle. What would you blame when little girls are raped? How did the infant seduce anybody? What would you blame for the rape of a simple, homely woman?

Rape is rape. It’s not the fault of the victim, ever. The rapist(s) are guilty and this can have no explanation. No arguments or facts can justify rape.

When a girl is raped, it’s not just she who has been affected. The freedom and safety of each and every girl in the whole country is ripped off. No girl in our country is safe, and I feel ashamed to say this, but this is the truth. Unfortunately, we don’t even have provisions for the proper care of the victims. We all want the punishments for rape and sexual assault to be


THE LITERARY CLUB achieving our aims but make us lose our individuality. Also, a study has shown when we are more focused on goals such as money, fame and image; we are more likely to suffer from anxiety and depression.

stricter. What we forget, is how hard it is for the victim to live normally after this.

The same story repeats over and over again. That’s what some of you must be thinking. What do you think I was trying to conclude? Stop raping 5-year olds? No. You already know that. What we can change, is the way we react towards rape as a society. We could, for instance, not say, “Oh, she was out with a guy past midnight. What do you expect?”; rather we could extend a hand for help. We could lend her a shoulder to lean on, an ear to hear her unheard cries and voice to convey her unsaid suffering. We could tell her, “Stay strong.”. Above all, we could tell her what she wants to hear, “We wil bring you justice.”

The Imperfect Triumph


was sitting in my drawing room when my eyes fell on the digital wall clock. I was astounded to notice that it showed the current date, day and temperature along with time. I was astonished by the fact that I always used other sources to check these and used the clock to just keep an eye on the time. Nevertheless, this incident is small and should have been forgotten but it penetrated deep down my mind which forced me to wonder more about it.

- Stuti Dubey

In this world full of terrifying deadlines and timelines, we have become too straightforward, unable to see anything that does not take us closer to our goals. We follow a set, fixed path to reach a particular destination and have forgotten the power of a roving mind which has been the source of many awe-inspiring stories. We do not even bother to a look at the beautiful flowers on the pavement during our object-oriented journey. This has surely made us more successful but at the cost of our creativity. This has increased our efficiency but has taken us away from the surprises of experimentation. Now, the very obvious question is, ‘Why is this happening?’. All of us were born innovative, open to ideas, ready to think about anything and everything; then what is that which shot dead our creative side?



Children are generally more creative than adults. We have heard and felt this many times but never analyzed it, thinking it is something natural which has to do with hormones and development of the mind. Fortunately or unfortunately, that is not the only reason for this fact. As we grow up, reality sets in. We no more live in a world where everything is possible. We develop fear as we grow up - fear of losing, fear of failure, fear of not being able to impress others, fear of appearing ridiculous and the fear of not having a lot of money. This fear takes the place of our creativity. We restrict ourselves to strict routines and stop exposing ourselves to new situations, which assist us in


The problem is, even if we try to do something different in a task, for which a set path is already discovered, there is a high chance of being declared inefficient. Also, there is a very high possibility that people who follow the set path will become successful easily. Then, what is the need to do this at all? Why not follow the path which is already tried and tested? It is worthwhile to mention the renowned example of Steve Jobs here, who took a calligraphy class as a college student which had absolutely nothing to do with his technical courses. He just did it because he felt like doing it at that time. He later used this knowledge to design the first computer with beautiful typography which is certainly a considerable add-on to the world of computers. All this would have been impossible if he had only taken calculated steps, keeping his final aim in mind.

Thus, even though it is very important to be successful, it is equally important to be unconventional. When we don’t follow the path, it is very likely that we may find a shorter one or unexpectedly reach a more ravishing destination. Do follow the main road, but do not forget to keep an eye out on the thin side lanes. So, unleash your mind, loosen the grip of schedules and step over your fears to do what your heart strives for, even if your mind is unable to find a single reason to do that. Then, only then, we will be able to see the temperature on a clock which has only been used to check time for centuries. Life is too long to be lived for a single goal.

- Khushboo Ahuja



The Untitled Poem I want to cry.

And I will cry alone, so that no one can hear. I know it makes no sense, for what good could crying do. It might make me feel better, but what if it makes me worse? I want to measure every emotion that comes to me before I crush it. With an excuse of calling myself an overthinker, I want to dive deep into my own imaginary world. Oh, mock! C’mon, mock more, It doesn’t do me harm any more. For you, It is so simple to be a newsletter; with perfect wicked media-men popularising the already popular opinion, Or making their own negative stories with a few uncertified painted villains. Because, negativity sells more, and helps you in getting better than those you’re painting black. You have a role in most of the viral things, Almost all, in your neighborhood, or on the internet. And turn real whispers into Chinese whisper. Doing better than the neighbourhood is an achievement. But wait, introspect. Better, better? Better doesn’t work; for that, something has to be worse. It’s subjective, isn’t it? You became happy because you were ahead of others,



which is not always correct. Most sapiens on the planet have some ambitions to chase. You might have too. And you should; There will be people to drag you down, to pull you back, So that they can get the thrust. Help them, but be careful, Because helping them even a thousand times, would simply be vain if you screw up just once. They will judge you the time when you screwed up. Because uncovering flaws is simpler, isn’t it? Negative news sells more, and doesn’t take time in becoming a newsletter. A single mistake of yours and this newsletter’s work will ruin your reputation. Colors change when you turn your back, and if you’re a sensitive person, Your life is gonna be screwed even more. In these tough times, positivity is important. Winning without hope is impossible; The same is the case of winning over people, who are a costly asset to maintain And this is why, I now refrain, having framed some new rules. My life got a ton simpler, the threads are broken and the chains are on. But I know it’s all in my head, and I will break the chains too. Soon, very soon, because it’s all in my head. The real world doesn’t care about emotion, so if I cry, I will cry alone.

- Mohit Mohta



THE LITERARY CLUB a house; well congratulations! Next, this society teaches you how to judge the ones outside your house. You are supposed to look at them with hostility, mockery, and at times, pity and fear too. Everything beyond the house is a beast, and society has given you a rulebook which says, ‘Beasts are not welcome inside’. Let’s talk about this house now: House of Sanity:

Defining trait: the ability to think and behave in a normal and rational manner; sound mental health.

House of Sanity Green: the color of prosperity, well-being and mental health. Green of trees and plants, green of a surgeon’s coat. Green of the minds of psychologically illiterate. Green of the walls of the house of sanity. … Illiterate. /ɪˈlɪt(ə)rət/ adjective 1. 1. 2. unable to read or write noun 1. 1. 2. a person who is unable to read or write.

Ah! Of course, we know that. We the students of IIT XYZ: the brightest, smartest, most “educated” out of all of our generation, you take us for a fool do you? You think we don’t know what illiterate means? Sure you do. But did you realize, that even to know what illiterate means, you need to be literate first. Now read that slowly. In your mind. It means that society has designed a wicked system of survival for you. By defining houses for you. To identify what lies outside your house, you need to belong to a house first. And once you belong to


Congratulations again. I know, the young dynamic population of IIT XYZ belongs to this house as well. The beast, in this case, is an insane man. A person, not as well-equipped with mental health as you; lacked a sound mental health; was not qualified to be a part of the house. As a person who doesn’t belong to this house, let me tell you how I look at you. I hate your world. I loathe your courtesies, your complacency and sophistication, your grandeur and celebration of being alright. I spit at your eliteness and privilege. The most of all, I laugh at the constant consolation you give to yourself, that you are fine. I pity you for how you try to hide your fears, complexities and problems of life; and cover it all with a veil of strength. You people amuse me at various levels with your dogmatism; you make me a beast. You believe I’m not sick; I’m mad. Dare to kick the glass walls of your house someday. Out here they both mean the same.

I am a beast in your sane minds, a dictionary beast. Why? Because I have a rotten mind. I cannot feel, express or do anything right. Because I am mad. I am taken to a doctor if I ache in my stomach, eye, mouth, head, limbs or any goddamn part of my body, but when my mind hurts, when my notion of judgement falters and when my sense of security fails me, I am loaded with advice. I shouldn’t overthink, but learn to take things positively. I am told how life is a goddamn battle to every goddamn person, hand-picked and thrown into the beautiful house of sanity; because a psychiatrist, a counsellor, a friend are forbidden in the esteemed house of sanity. I approach you for help, you misjudge it for a threat and run away from me. I confide in you for sympathy and kindness, and you remind me how different I am


from you. Each moment of my interaction with you is a clarification of the fact that I am a parasite. I’ll grow and sicken you all if given a shelter, roof or a family. I suit asylums, shelter homes and foster cares. That’s where insanes live, afterall. I thank you. I do not qualify as a human being, but I am happy. Out here, we insanes do not judge each other. We cry for each other. We understand each other and we help each other; and get better.

Insanity is just an occasional illness here. It’s not witchcraft. It’s not black magic. We allow all kinds of insanes - quiet, fiery, emotional(yes,they exist!). Here, insanity can be treated, if we want, and treatment is not forbidden. We treat it with what we call psychiatry over here. We don’t have to hide the fact that we are insane. It’s curable. Your books teach you such stuff (sadly). We know your secret. We know you are insane too. But you pretend to be fine, else the the beautiful glass walled house where you live with a faltered sense of reality will kick you out and throw you with beasts like us. You have your own ways of healing yourself, half of which is just concealing the fact that you are unwell.

We breathe, we eat, we sleep. We cry and we rejoice. Just like you. And not all of us land into asylums, or in piles of pills. Some of us just need the right assistance like a case of the right size to hold our fractured minds, and we get that here, beyond the walls of your privileged house of sanity.


- Anjali Parashar



The Plight of Indian Justice


ragya’s body was found dumped near one of the most deserted areas of the city. Post-mortem report revealed that she was repeatedly raped and tortured before she was left to die. A 32-year old journalist, Pragya was actively involved in exposing the drug and extortion racket of MLA Amar Singh. CBI believes that the MLA’s younger brother, Santosh Singh, was responsible for her death.

Rape and murder charges were immediately filed against the Singh brothers. That was in 1992. 25 years have passed since the murder case began. Only 2 of 9 witnesses have been heard so far. At 85 years of age, Pragya’s mother is almost lifeless. She cannot speak, hear or walk anymore. But whenever she hears her daughter’s name, she shouts “Insaaf!” meaning justice.

At the age of 77, 17 years after Pragya’s death, she gave her testimony in her daughter’s murder case. She used to go to the court several times on the wheelchair in scorching heat, pleading them to record her statement sooner, fearing she didn’t have much time left. When she finally gave her testimony in her meek, inaudible voice, the judge had to come to the witness box, stand next to her to understand what she was trying to say. After she delivered her statement, the court was adjourned. Her next date was 2 months later, after the summer vacation of the courts. Singh’s lawyer failed to show up in court on the next date, citing health issues and the date of hearing was further extended. Meanwhile, in these 25 years, Santosh Singh became an MP in spite of charges against him, riding high on his drug and extortion rackets. Pragya’s mother received death threats from Singh’s men at many occasions. Pragya’s rape and murder case is not exceptional in India.


Even if the brother duo is imprisoned at the moment, there are still many methods of escape. They can appeal, launching another series of decade long legal battles. By the time the higher courts would decide to convict them, it won’t be a surprise if Amar Singh is spared incarceration with judges citing his advanced years. Santosh Singh may also file a last ditch appeal that he is also too old and ill to be imprisoned. The wheels of justice may turn so slowly that these brothers could even manage to elude them. They may die before being punished. Whatever the verdict will be, it will definitely be a galling outcome for Pragya’s mother, who might not even survive to see her daughter getting justice. Pragya’s case among many others is a pressing reminder of how lethargic the Indian judicial system has become. India has a backlog of 33 million pending cases, which will take an estimated 320 years to clear. More than 22 million cases are currently pending in India’s district courts. Six million of those have lasted longer than five years. Another 4.5 million are waiting to be heard in the high courts and more than 60,000 in the Supreme Court. In the government’s budget for 2016, only 0.2% of the total budget was given to the law ministry, one of the lowest proportions in the entire world.

The number of cases is just the tip of the iceberg. Take a walk in any of the courts and you will see long queues of people waiting for their cases to get resolved. Most of them are not even sure whether they will get a chance to even enter the courtroom. Getting heard is a far cry here, let alone receiving justice.

The first and the foremost cause behind the collapsing rule of law in India is the lack of judges. India has just 18 judges for 1 million people compared to the required number of 50. Judges are under extreme pressure of hearing scores of cases every single day. And each case requires a minimum of one hour of homework of reading the case files. It is pathetically a large amount of work and it is very rare that a judge would be fully aware of a case he is dealing with. India’s judge shortage is exacerbated by many unfilled vacancies, lack of technology and frivolous litigation methods.


Underpinning these breakdowns are malpractices used by lawyers for their selfish interests. They deliberately try to delay hearings and stall cases by requesting adjournment repeatedly. They routinely appeal against verdicts and many a times, fail to turn up in courts. Adjournments are given without any second thoughts, witnesses never report on time and the judicial administration with all its paperwork is in complete haywire. Moreover, the cases which aren’t even relevant enough or are being unnecessarily dragged aren’t strictly dealt with. Not to forget the long summer breaks Indian courts enjoy. The Bhopal Gas Tragedy is an eminent instance of Indian judicial failure. The cornerstone of this case, ‘principle of absolute liability’, was diluted in its decision, which was reached after a 20-year long wait. This shows nothing but the judiciary’s indifference towards such cases, plight of its victims and any other similar cases that might occur in future.

The Jessica Lal murder case is a classic instance of ‘justice delayed is justice denied’ where the eye witnesses denied identifying the politically influential culprit as the murderer since the preceding started following a long wait. The Aarushi murder case proved that in the courtrooms, you need evidence for truth to win, but for a lie to emerge victorious, all you need is confusions. Even after her parents got convicted and later acquitted, almost a decade later, we are not wiser; we have the same questions, and the same swapped pillowcase theories. What if her parents were actually the culprits and are roaming around freely after committing a double murder? What about their 9-year long ordeal after losing their only child if they are innocent? India is currently suffering from a crisis of faith in the legal system. With about 30 million cases trapped in legal logjam, where the process of going through legal battles itself becomes a punishment for the victim, where even after winning the case you lose both your money and sanity, where appeals are seen as a way out, where courts’ summer breaks last longer than your kid’s school holidays and where justice has become a mirage amidst shackles of painful procedures, it is painful to see vile lawyers and those corrupt bureaucrats and politicians absconding from even the idea of a strong judiciary.


- Arushi Jain


A Frank To Your Donnie 28:06:42:12 till doomsday. I personally feel that every self-proclaiming film connoisseur must consider watching Donnie Darko. This cult classic psychological thriller is the golden baby of writer and director Richard Kelly. With Jake Gyllenhaal playing Donnie Darko, the main protagonist, this movie epitomises any sci-fi creation. Most of us would find it very bolshie to classify various aspects of this particular film.

This movie contains a conglomerate plot and the idea of a parallel universe which is explicitly explained in the movie through a book named ‘The Philosophy of Time Travel’, written by Roberta Sparrow (played by Patience Cleveland). This movie holds the potential to grab the licence to anyone’s conscious mind and prevent them from watching the movie as a critique, but rather, making them enjoy it as an audience.

This movie gives us a glimpse of what exists beyond a paradox and explains very subtle concepts of life nonchalantly. Philosophical tempo of the film is never dropped in a quest to attract more viewers and this feature provides a very deep meaning to the film. Even a person with a rigid mindset regarding the idea of God can be influenced by this film. The writer, Richard Kelly, has done a marvellous job in mapping the science of a parallel universe with the life of a muddled and troubled high school teenager, Donnie. The film is premised on the idea that everyone in the universe dies alone and this becomes the apparent fear of Donnie, which in turn triggers a series of events that eventually leads to his self-enlightenment. Let me shed some light on Frank, an imaginary friend of


Donnie, who also happens to be the puppeteer behind most of his actions. For instance, in the movie, Donnie floods his own school and wrecks a symbolic statue of it under the influence of Frank. These acts of vandalism results in cancelling of the school and this allows Donnie to meet Gretchen (played by Jena Malone) who eventually serves to be the driving force behind an occurrence, without which Donnie’s purpose in the tangent universe would remain unfinished. This explains how Frank was able to control Donnie’s destiny and hence was preparing him for the worst to come. The indirect transition of Donnie from being an atheist to an agnostic and finally to a believer of destiny remains the backbone of the story. Despite having a seemingly intricate plot, the purpose of the film, to give the word ‘Sisyphean’ a positive connotation, is not lost. Evil represented in the film is in the form of synecdoche and it does not dominate over the plot of the movie. In a nutshell, Donnie Darko is enthralling and mesmerizing but in a delicate way which has not covered the ugly distance towards being naïve.

“He is fully aware of the absurd and is the master of his fate.”

- Chaitanya Shah


THE LITERARY CLUB say if it is right or wrong? We certainly wouldn’t. Is murder right? Copying in an exam? Rape? Animated child porn? No? Really? How could you tell if there is no wrong? How could you tell if there is no right?

It’s ironic, then, how it’s us who get to decide where this line exists. Each of us. Every one of us. Humanity as a whole.

Grey Existence


e both look out the window and see a bird. I say it’s a white dove but you say it’s a black crow. Which one of us was right? Black and White. Right and Wrong. True and False. Each of these are a pair of polar concepts. Polar, yet intertwined.

One cannot exist without the other. It’s the ol’ cliched, “two sides of the same coin” thing again.

Unlike heads and tails however, right and wrong aren’t found on opposite sides of a coin. There’s supposed to be a clear boundary between them. These concepts only mean something to us because of this line. And guess who draws this line between them? We do. It is we who create a distinction between them. It is we who idolize one and vilify the other.

We have this unparalleled ability to shift this line, this boundary; and with it, all our moral ideologies - based on nothing more than a mere sneeze and the drop of sand. We’ve all done it. I certainly have. “Don’t cut in line.” “But’s he’s my friend and nobody’s watching.” “Copying in an exam is wrong, ya know.” “But it’s just one MCQ and I need to pass.” “Try not to kill him.” “But he raped my sister.” {Funny how that escalated quickly.}

Our moral compass is fickle. It points to where we tell it to.

The trolley problem is a prime example of this. It’s supposed to be a thought experiment on ethics. I’d love to see someone actually do it though. It’d probably end up being the next Stanford Prison Experiment.

You see, we need this distinction, this boundary. We can’t live without it. We need that surge of relief, knowing that what we’re doing is right. We need that surge of “excitement”, knowing that what we’re doing isn’t.

“You see a runaway trolley moving toward five tied-up (or otherwise incapacitated) people lying on the tracks. You are standing next to a lever that controls a switch. If you pull the lever, the trolley will be redirected onto a side track and the five people on the main track will be saved. However, there is a single person lying on the side track. You have two options: 1. Do nothing and allow the trolley to kill the five people on the main track. 2. Pull the lever, diverting the trolley onto the side track where it will kill one person. Which is the most ethical option?”

Without a clear distinction between what is wrong and what is right, our ethics, our morals, which govern our infallible conscience, would fall to shreds. Our entire system would break down and so would we. Who is to

The cold, calculated, methodical answer is pull the damn lever. Five is greater than one. Save five. Be a hero. To which I’d say “Human lives are ‘incommensurable’ .”

And we’re so damn fickle about it.

We are incapable of living in a world without right and wrong.


Before we start searching for a Spiderman in our midst, let me reiterate that we can’t save all six. Those are the rules of the thought experiment. Let’s stick to ‘em.


The other answer is, it’s happening anyway, let it happen, not my fault, not my problem, I’m not guilty. To which I’d say, “The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis.” If you want to know what my answer is, you’re welcome to hunt me down and force it out of me. It’d probably just help reinforce that human morality is fickle. The point here isn’t actually your answer - I don’t actually care about that, nor should you, really. If this happened to you in real life just sue the trolley operator, make a cool couple million and chill in Ibiza.

The point here is twofold. One - everyone gave a different answer. Two - subtle changes to the problem bring about a varying degree of change in each person’s answer.

Humour me for a second here. To everyone who said “out with the lone guy” and saved five - what if that one person was your girlfriend? Your mom? Or your sister? (blatant misogyny here, I know). To everyone who said let ‘em die - what if those were ten people, not five? What about twenty? Five hundred? A million? At what point does human life stop being ‘incommensurable’, and urges you to pick the many over the one?

It is the difference in these opinions, in these moral poles, that determine what we call grey. I see black. You see white. We declare a truce and call it grey.

We can’t handle knowing if we are wrong. If what the other person says is true. If what we do and say is indeed black and not white. So we call it grey. Grey is merely a hollow imaginary construct of humanity to reinforce our brittle psyche against that unknowable truth that forever looms over us. There is no grey. It cannot be a pigeon. Grey does not exist. But then again, neither do I.

-Aaden Pyke

We pick the answer we feel the least guilty of and justify it with poor reasons designed to help us sleep at night. Our morality is fickle and our conscience, brittle. It can’t take the stress of taking immoral decisions nor can it handle the what-ifs that arise from it. PTSD counselling exists for a reason. We can’t handle this stress. So we fall back to making lame excuses. We joke. We kid. We tell ourselves, “It’s just a thought experiment”.“It wouldn’t happen to me.” “I’d just sue the trolley operator”. Oh, and the best one - “It’s a moral grey area.” Spoiler! It isn’t. Our moral compass points where we tell it to. There is no grey.

There is merely Black and White, Right and Wrong, True and False. If I see a crow and you see a dove, it can’t be a pigeon.

It is not a mixture of these two opposites that create what we call grey.




The Real Saffron


affron ideology - the most talked of political term these days. For the apolitical readers, just to tell you in a nutshell, it refers to the right/conservative concept often associated with the ruling Bhartiya Janta Party as the party is said to work along the lines of “Hindutva”. Often, we have political parties use the term “saffronisation” for the policies of the ruling party, projecting them as favouring only a particular sect. There are several organizations who are spreading communal hatred and violence in the name of saffron. Saffron represents a right wing ideology today, but is it something that was envisaged a few decades ago? Saffron, indeed, is vastly associated with the Hindu sect and more specifically, the saints who sacrifice materialistic pleasures and take the onus of spreading spiritualism and knowledge. These are the saints who took upon travelling from one place to another and deliver sermons, as an attempt to preach Godly values among the masses, without any selfish motives. Swami Vivekanand, the popular flagbearer of Hinduism in the World Religion Summit in Chicago, comes closest to the representative of this saffron, but did he propagate saffron as a right wing ideology?

There is saffron in our tricolour flag as well, the very first row. All of us were taught that saffron represents the value of sacrifice and we must remember this colour for the courage shown by our freedom fighters who sacrificed their lives for the sake of our nation. So how has the meaning of saffron changed within 70 years from that of sacrifice to a conservative right wing ideology? This transformation, I feel, is the result of public acceptance of the opinions propogated by the TRP driven media and politicians’ exploitation of that very fact. This is why any value in modern India is vulnerable to media manipulation and is indeed a dangerous situation because we are gradually altering the meaning and significance of these key elements of


our culture and history. The saffron which was proudly used to describe the sacrifice and selflessness shown by the saints and soldiers, is a topic of disgust today. Saffronisation is used to represent the conservative Hindu ideology. That is why we have things like saffron army or anti-saffron army in modern India and all you need is an issue as minute as a straw to make the entire country go gaga over a colour which forms one third of our national flag. The colour saffron has become a taboo in modern India and very often, is used for either spreading hatred or as meme content. We, as Indians, must be ashamed of ourselves that amidst all the “Secular vs Communal” debates, we have lost a key component of our national flag. An 8 year old kid is told to respect the national flag and admire the three colours, but as he grows up, he realises, one of those three colours has evolved to become a symbol of hatred and disgust; he gives up on the childlike enthusiasm and gradually, he also becomes a part of the “society”. Whom should he ask whether saffron is about the value of sacrifice or communal ideology; whether he should adore the colour or abhor it? This should be food for thought for all of you. How unstable and unclear are we in our thoughts! The values upon which our nation was established get altered at the hands of political and societal manipulation. Our national symbols are conditioned and used to harvest political benefits which as a side effect, result in an unstable society. Instead of keeping a check on that, we gradually become a contributor to the cause. How saffron, which used to be a symbol of sacrifice in the post colonial era, symbolises communal hatred in modern India; must be a lesson for all of us, especially the educated section because it’s mostly them who carry the transformation wave. As aware, enlightened and literate citizens, it is definitely our right to put forth our opinions on an existing wrong, but it is also our responsibility to preserve national values and make


sure that they are not tampered with because of our activities. National heritage is an intellectual property of all the countrymen that must never be traded off. Media will keep manipulating the information and show a single side of the story but we must not fall for it. Media did manifest saffron as a symbol of Hinduism but instead of the values it signifies, projected it as a weapon of communal hatred which is now used by political organisations. We must be cautious that such a thing doesn’t occur in future where the meaning of a national symbol is altered from a positive value to a taboo. It would have been better if saffron had been used to represent the ideology of “sacrifice” only, or associate it with the teachings of Swami Vivekanand.

- Utkarsh Kumar Singh



Unser Kampf Rest of the Lit club: Minutes of the meeting please

Floyd. Floyd: The Donald wastes time by asking the new ni#&as to introduce themselves. I mean we just interviewed them a week ago. We know they’re worthless. Why else did we take them in. The Donald is confused about what the meeting is about. Sad. He then talks about imprint nomenclature. How pointless. The Donald speaks about the FB page. The dead part of the club. Nothing fruitful comes out of this discussion. As expected. The Donald declares that we are having an MUN. Again. The Donald assigns mid semester break homework. He wants articles. Anything. He’s desperate. The Donald tries and fails to mock Kevin Spacey’s tenure. Jesus is giving me the look. The Donald mentions Reddit. The meeting gets much cooler. Sudden topic change. Third year electrical students describe their plight. Sigh. The meeting is sad again. The Donald says we’ll hold four word wars. Ambitious as always. Tries to deflect it to Batgirl. The Donald asks who’d like to organise word wars. Nobody volunteers. The Donald is sad. Again. Jesus’ expressions are priceless. “If I could turn back time.....” Word wars to be held in the second week of November. The Donald asks for the end sem timetable. I oblige. I’m awesome. I exceed all limits of awesomeness and modesty. The Donald mentions inter IIT events. We will get


clobbered there like Brazil against Germany. The Donald speaks about the event turncoat. Finally gets to invite-only events. Haha The Quiz Club already did it. The Quiz Club rocks. Jerry enters. The meeting started ages ago. Where was she I wonder. Gets to the dreaded subject of T shirts. Lalu is paying half the money. The Donald trying to make us buy merchandise. Extortion motherf*#@er. The Donald is confused about the founding year of the club. Again. Design is a succ. My concern voiced. Position of the logo being considered. Again. Body parts discussed. Interesting. My favorite body part.... Well maybe some other time. Color combination discussed. Again. Salvador Dali shakes his head. Kiran Bedi tries to convince him. Jerry shakes her head too. Chaos. Me likey. Jesus brings the meeting back to order. Batgirl is on fire. Everyone admires his T shirt. Kevin Spacey tries to sell some random a$@ ideas about a wolf sigil and a pun which is just depressing. My fingers are going numb typing this. The Donald summarises. The Donald appreciates efforts. He didn’t do any work afterall. If he didn’t thank us, there would be fire & fury. Salvador Dali gets a special mention. The Donald calls for a new Salvador Dali. A new designer not a new Salvador Dali. We’d be a$@ fu*#@ed if we got another Salvador Dali.Three juniors volunteer. Three corpses for Kevin to ..... Chair is from outside MP. Phew. Civilisation. The meeting ended thrice and restarted already. Imprint has six articles. We all knew that. The Donald can’t seem to conclude this meeting. The Donald is wasting my time. Meeting over. Finally. There will be reviews for all members. People will be kicked out. But we know that ain’t happening. Get that white board in now. It is time for a couple of hours of pictionary.

- Floyd


Growling Shriek


o be honest, I’d never had to consider the possibility that one day I’d have to write Growling Shriek. Was the author I’d imagined a vague, shadowy figure, kind of like the swathes of first years whose names I will never try to learn? Sure. Was that imaginary person going to suck at writing this? Inevitably. But if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that I wouldn’t be doing it. F*#k.

I agreed to write this in April, I think. It’s July now. No, it’s not that good an article, I spent 3 days on it in May and I’ve only remembered it now. In some ways, I feel like this is perfectly characteristic of my time at IIT Indore. And we all know it wasn’t just me. You’ve done it as a student, we’ve done it with Fluxus, and even the institute management has done it; in my first year, Simrol was a wall protecting the printer in the SIC building, and I had classes there in my second year. But I digress. I’ve taken a lot of time with this article because I feel like I have to live up to my predecessors, and I have neither Ameya’s oozing cynicism and sarcasm, nor Tejwani’s glorious manly-man beard. But whatever. I’m out of the system now, and I’m looking for approval from other people. Honestly, I thought Growling Shriek would die out by the time I graduated, simply because it would become repetitive after a while. B.Tech Projects will keep getting copied, Fluxus would keep being Fluxus, Simrol would always be a shit show to complain about, and this section would only grow staler than the mess food. They sure showed me.

I suppose I should be thankful for all the stuff that’s


been happening over the year, because it just makes my job that much easier. Maybe I should start with every Growling Shrieker’s bread and butter, Fluxus, Central India’s largest technocultural fest, the annual gathering of hundreds of IITIans that made me question the extent of Central India for 2 years (no, I haven’t found a conclusive answer). After being smothered by the iron hand of poverty (thanks, seniors!), Fluxus decided to sleep in this year, hopefully taking the time off to recuperate and come back bigger and better next year (kek). Unfortunately, because the Literary Club’s already done that with Imprint, the move has lost its impact on me (please don’t kill it off). But let’s pause here. If someone even bothers to look at this a few years down the line, this might not matter or make much sense, but I know what the batches of 2019-2021 really want to see here. You’re here to see just how much of a dump I can take on the absolute travesty of an academic year the institute’s just served us, and to be honest, I don’t really know what else I can do. I have no idea what the sports teams get up to, so let’s just give them the benefit of the doubt and say they don’t deserve to be made fun of. The Literary Club did kill Imprint, but honestly, they’ve really pulled their shit together compared to what I managed last year (go ahead Keyur, no one’s watching). The mess secretary might have sucked, but, I mean, don’t they all? I don’t know if Comic Con Simrol was actually enjoyable, and I don’t care much either, but I choose to believe that nobody actually showed up in costume on a day’s notice and thus retain my faith in this college. And yeah, they might suck now, but the Quiz Club is definitely going to put someone in the finals of an inter IIT quiz one of these years, even if they have to host it themselves. If I


INSCRIPTION 2018 did have a problem with the student base, it would be that you pretzels think it’s okay (or worse, cool) to use Facebook for disseminating information. Also, I’d try to talk about how bad the shitposting on the IIT Indore Confessions page is, but I’m afraid going back there is going to exacerbate my cancer. I’ll say this much: get you to r/bakchodi and stay there.

Someone once said that the powerful people of Washington D.C. believe that they’re in House of Cards, but it’s really more so like Veep. Something similar is going on with the student polity at IIT Indore, with all the players wanting to be cool and kickass, except it’s actually less like Veep and more like the Council of Ricks. Weird, vindictive trials? Check. Morties (that’d be us) have no real power? More or less. There’s even a balding old scientist in charge who hates the Morties. Plus, the administrative system is exactly the perfect amount of bizarre that while it works, it bewilders and annoys those who are not part of the system. Let’s face it, Simrol has never really worked all too well. People have always complained about the mess, transport both within and outside the campus has been difficult, to say the least, student services on campus are practically nonexistent, and the cafeteria is so woke they take 20 minutes to get you your toast. And my personal favourite gripe, the whole campus is stuck in an odd phase where the student printers don’t work but we haven’t gone paperless yet (no, you can’t print your resume at the TPC office). As if this trash pile wasn’t enough of a bothersome eyesore (mendokusai, my fellow men of culture), someone had to set fire to it by cutting the number of buses going out of the campus to a whopping 2, while the 2 buses leaving the city at 8 in the morning are about as useful as a rape whistle if you do happen to be out all night waiting for them. Nice. (Seriously, if we were really bleeding money, couldn’t they just have hiked the Ph.D students’ fees? Oh wait, we already did that protest.) I’ve seen various levels of poor planning by both students and faculty during my 4 years here, but forgetting to feed half of your students has got to take the cake (in defense of everyone without a mess coupon, Tuesday’s dinner is the worst, it is known). I don’t know if the institute was just ahead of the whole r/thanosdidnothingwrong thing, or if they did it just to spite a canteen owner, or the whole thing


THE LITERARY CLUB was for shits and giggles, but I hope someone got a good laugh out of it, because we sure didn’t. What’s worse is that they really thought there was nothing to apologise for. Worst of all is how utterly politicised the whole thing was in the days that followed. No, people aren’t out to get you, I sincerely doubt anyone is throwing stones at your house at 12 in the night (hey, we might kick someone’s ass sore on their birthday, but we aren’t savages), your public speaking skills don’t mean anything (unless you let the DebSoc cash in on it), and not everything needs to be a popularity contest. If I wanted to see a certain sort of tater (editors amirite?) maintain their legitimacy by slandering the popular voice and facing every criticism leveled against them with ‘that’s untrue’, I would’ve followed @realDonaldTrump. Speaking of Trump, where do I even begin with the IITI travel ban? Implementing a SmartCard system that can be used as a cash card on campus and then confiscating it when someone leaves Simrol sounds so dumb it could be the Doofenshmirtz plot in a Phineas and Ferb episode, but hey, we aren’t the sharpest minds in the country for nothing. That the administration was enough of a man-child to spite the students for a harmless protest by locking them inside was amazing in itself, but when I realised they were actually reading tweets and Facebook posts about the incident and fighting them, I knew we had no adults on board this ship. Grow up. Messing up comes with repercussions, and I guess I just wished the college was competent enough to handle them without pulling a Joe Stalin on every student in the campus (the intimidation part, not the, uh, suicides-by-bullet-in-the-back-of-thehead). The most organised part of the entire ordeal was, surprisingly, a reddit user (I can’t believe we went back to reddit to resolve our problems). If you have the chance, make u/CallForHelp_STUD your BTP partner, their documentation will almost certainly make panties drop. Also, while we’re on the subject of BTPs, a moment of silence and a few tears for those who were screwed out of their rightful BTP grades (*sobs*).

this magazine, but I feel like this Growling Shriek is much angrier than its predecessors. Going through them now, I see this section more as a cynical commentary on how nothing will ever be good enough for the entitled IITIan, and I’m truly sad that this year’s article couldn’t be just that. And I’m sure it sucks to be reading this if you’re a wide eyed first year looking for the perfect college experience, but it is what it is. It’s not all bad, obviously, and as most people will tell you, we do have some very good professors and a vibrant student community that isn’t afraid of continuously growing (and we’ve got bicycles now, yay! It was fun while it lasted). I’ve met a lot of cool people and changed a lot in my time here, mostly for the better, and I’d like to think that I’ve helped some people change for the better too(Narrator: No he didn’t). Hopefully, you’ll feel the same when you pick up this magazine three years from now (don’t run the Literary Club into the ground, scrubs).

We (I say ‘we’ because I don’t want to sound like a friendless creepster, which of course I’m not) have a theory about how you find your ‘mentors’ and ‘protégés’ only every alternate year, which is why we tend to like our seniors and juniors two years apart. I know I did, and I’ve had some great mentor figures in the class of 2016. And I mostly felt the same way when I met the class of 2020. This was actually one of the

reasons I didn’t expect to write this - I’m nothing like Ameya Bharati, and I just assumed his ‘successor’ would write Growling Shriek. But I guess that’s not really how it works, and I’m glad for it. Regardless of where we go from here, I’ll be looking forward to reading this section whenever the next volume is printed, and seeing what becomes of it in the future. Actually, I think it’s about time one of the girls had a go at writing this section. Knowing us, it’s probably going to be Arushi. Or maybe Vartika? Either way, don’t forget to have fun!

Adithyan Kannaiyan

Adithyan Kannaiyan (You wouldn’t know me even if I said which branch or year) Bonus: (Felt like the past few Growling Shriek articles offered a new writing style each time, so I’m just doing my part. I’d actually post on 4chan, but I’m not ready to part with what remains of my dignity just yet.)

Oh, right, before I forget, our thoughts and prayers are with those who will regrettably come to learn too much about their new roommates when they’re doubling up next year. I don’t know who’s worse off --- the ones who have never had to share a room, or the ones who have to go back to sharing after tasting the comforts of solitude --- but whichever boat you’re in, God help you all. I don’t know how this comes across to the readers of