Vista 2022

Editor's Note

It's been a long journey from the first year too scared to interview for the elusive English Editorial Board to the stressed Editor winging it as she goes but this journey is one I would not trade for a hundred different experiences. As someone who consumes a lot of online content, I speak in tropes and found family has always been one of my favorites. I don't think I quite understood the concept of found family until I joined English Editorial Board, all at once intimidating and inviting. It has been an honor to be a part of this club, a member and the Editor, to lessons my seniors imparted, to the evolution we've undertaken as a club, growing with the times and to the family I found here, a sanctum of the written word and a sense of belonging. To my absolute delight and pleasure, I present to you our annual publication, Vista, a culmination of our work throughout the year, featuring the rising voices of our members with pieces sure to invite you into a world of their own creation, words that'll tug at your heart, leave you with something to think about or maybe, inspire you to create your own. As is custom, a concept we hold very dear to our heart, we also have the Matrimonials, featuring the stories of the illustrious few within the graduating batch.

I could not be more excited to have this edition be the mark I leave on the board and beyond because within these pages contains a story spanning months of brainstorming, hard work and delays of all kind. Thank you to all the juniors for continuously showing up, day after day, ready to follow through and thank you, English Editorial Board for giving me my people, a home away from home.

Arushi Aggarwal

Commentator's Note “Medicine Law Business Engineering: these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry beauty romance love: these are what we stay alive for”.

As I watched ‘Dead Poets Society’ for the first time, little did I know that John Keating’s words would keep coming back to me in my four years of studying to be an engineer.

Applying to join the board was never a matter of doubt for me. I knew that I had to be a part of the clannish committee that was the English Editorial Board. It was my escape from numbers and greek symbols, a place to meet people who had no boundaries and made you feel like they’d known you for years. As I progressed through my years in college, I saw the board evolve with us. We all worked on new avenues together and I derived extreme joy in the creative process of watching an idea grow from the faint whisper of a thought into a tangible piece of art. This magazine is the coalescence of those faint whispers that found their way into our notepads and notes apps. Thank you to everyone who made this edition of the Vista possible. Finally, thank you English Editorial Board, it’s bean a pleasure.

Simran Tyagi

INCOMING COMM BY RAX009

FILE RECEIVED

Solitary Rumintations

Yuvraj Singh Birdi

Awake and distraught, I lay alone in this thought.

Spitting feathers alright, In the middle of the night.

Lest I forget, This unfamiliar pool of sweat.

I feel the heat on my face, Trying to offset the cold embrace.

It’s a new life altogether, For the better however?

I sure hope so, But I don’t know.

I like this small cloud, It keeps me alone in a crowd.

As I plough a lone furrow, I doubt the long way to go.

I meet people, fun and new, And grow apart from the ones I knew.

This seems routine, doesn’t it?

Then why has it been harder than I’d guessed?

I fear the ease of replaceability, Of not just home but my life in futility.

For life itself is a moment, brief and fleeting, One that I do not wish to let go of easily.

An innate ability of our own, Is to make any place feel like home A regard for our own comfort, By knowing what comes first.

Of faith, I take a leap, As I try to go back to sleep.

For in the comfort of this thought, I’m a little less lost.

The Monologue to end all Monologues Arushi Aggarwal

[ASTRONAUT is lost in space unfathomably tired.]

ASTRONAUT: Is anyone listening?

[There is no reply.]

ASTRONAUT: Is anyone listening?

[Static]

ASTRONAUT: I suppose I should've seen this coming. You get what you give, and I've never given enough.

[The unrelenting vastness can no longer help this person.]

ASTRONAUT: Do you think people will remember me, or will dying erase me from history? I am not sure if my words carry weight if no one is here for them. Do my actions matter if they ultimately had no effect?

There's no great war I've lost my life in; I'm just dying, some might argue because of my own stupidity.

Did I mean anything to anyone else on that ship? Did I mean anything to the people on Earth? Do you thinkwell, it doesn't matter at this point, but I think it would be nice to be missed. I don't think I've ever been missed before.

ASTRONAUT: My entire life has felt like a bingo for missed connections, people and places. No place I have ever been in has lasted, not for very long anyways. That's why I became an astronaut, you know.

It was easier to be untethered than to face the fact that no one wanted me long enough for me to grow roots. But now, I don't know, I don't know if my death will be grieved, I don't know if the people I loved will ever know how much I loved them but I do know I will always carry these regrets.

[ASTRONAUT looks at depleting oxygen levels]

ASTRONAUT: In retrospect, it feels stupid, never having made amends as if every single mission doesn't come with the chance of death that plagues us all but humans, oh we love to adapt. Putting ourselves in life-threatening situations? We'll bargain with death itself and so, it has always felt like this could happen, sure, but this could more likely happen to someone else. Would it be hopeless of me to say I just wanted someone to tell you if it ever gets any easier? The loving and leaving and the people who fill the space in between. I'll never get to say goodbye to them, our memories together a funeral, every conversation I ever shared with them a eulogy. because this is how the story goes.

[A far away star collapses into a black hole. A comet collides with an asteroid.]

ASTRONAUT: I just want to mean something. I wanted to be remembered for the work I did. The people I lost, everyone I hurt, just to have me matter but I don't know if it was worth it in the end.

[None of it matters. ASTRONAUT dies just as they lived, alone]

The World Clock Simran Tyagi

The big loud clock ticks from afar; its sound an ominous warning and its looming presence an everlasting thought. It hangs in your mind like a migraine that cannot be dispelled by pills.

It’s the morning and as you open your eyes the air on your face feels a little warmer. So, you sit in your car and let it cool you down as the exhaust rids you of all sin.

Now you’re getting late for work so you step on it to make up for the few minutes you’ll wait in traffic.

The office is cold so you layer up with your cardigan that was not made kindly. You think about the consequences of that purchase in middle of a very important meeting.

The ticking is back as you eat food that’s been wrapped to keep it clean.

Peeling off the layers feels painful as though it was your own skin that you threw into the waste bin.

You forget to bring your own bags to the grocery store so you pay for a bag and hear the steady beat as you carry the weight to your car.

Shaking your head, you put the dishes in the dishwasher blaming the lack of time for your habits and dependencies.

Lying in bed, the ticking is now a little closer. You turn on the fan to drown the noise till tomorrow when the heat will wake you again.

What You See

Kalash Jain

What you see may be whom you think I am In a world with fake smiles and hearts broken with validation being the only token we cherish, You may think you know me By the way I talk and the way I walk, The pictures I click And the people I make sure to stick around for.

The words you think you heard me say And the little word-play in my captions, today You may have made your mind about me But I am not whom you think I am Not even close to whom you want me to be, Cause you paint a picture about me To fill the voids in your life, To make me the antagonist in your story And triumph over the saddened glory Of your judgment, Which challenges the way my breath quivers And how my dreams make me shiver In a cold sweat with a wet collar

For every nightmare that crept out of my dreams Into my life to top it all off with a blow of regret And an absent comfort which was exhausted by my past To devoid my present of the last drop of satisfaction and content.

What you see is who I am, For you.

But if you really want to know me Maybe stick around longer, And I don’t expect you to stay forever this time But when you leave, don’t you dare leave your blue sweater Next to the broken promises You plan to slide under my bed.

I still check for monsters every night.

What you see is what you want to see.

Maybe close your eyes and breathe Let me breathe For I am tired of being my worst nightmare.

An Ode to Mystery

Dhruv Rohil

All the world's a stage, and that is what we know, But that which lurks behind, Is much more worthy of a show.

We live our lives happily, with no end or worries in sight, We sleep quietly in our homes, without wondering what wanders the night.

If we spend our days away from questions, and make our mind what others want it to be, Then what shall be the answered, when asked what purpose did you seeIn searching for shells along beaches, in taking roads not taken, In looking for secrets trapped within towns, and empires long forsaken?

We laugh it off mindlessly, that curiosity is suited only on a child, But we often forget that unjustifiable reasons, make us go on adventures most wild.

Like the time you fought a giant gnome, or found a time traveling pig, Or the time when you searched for the lake monster, or met a psychic who definitely wasn't big.

There were also times when you became a sock, and battled a power high above, And also times when you found power, and tried to be the God of Love.

But all these adventures have a common theme.

All these turned out to be Not What They Seem!

But is that not what made adventures better?

A feeling of enigma, like a unicorn on a sweater.

Mystery my friends is what drives the human race straight on.

Exploration is the lifestyle that great men base their trait on.

Now the decision lies up to you, it is time to choose your track.

A life full of a familiar world, or a summer at the Mystery Shack.

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Hurt Me please don’t hurt me I’m hoping you’ll hear my plea read my face like you used to see what’s hidden between the lines every time I hit send I hope you’d reply but you haven’t done that for a while. please don’t hurt me I’m whimpering every night by myself sobbing softly wondering silently but you don’t return my calls texted me you’ll be late but you never came home please don’t hurt me I’m saying it to your face But it doesn’t matter because you laughed it right off somedays I wonder when did love leave our home packed her bags and walked out the door please don’t hurt me I’m shouting it now Because you just don’t hear me anymore every day I woke up and chose to love you with everything I had while you chose, not to please don’t hurt me I’ve stopped saying it because what’s the point when I know what I was trying so hard not to see you slipped away right in front of me. you hurt me but it’s okay now and yes, it was hard but I’ve learned to love me what I used to give you I’ve learned to give myself.

Sheron Singh

Heritage Shrouded by the Lost Decade

Akshay Kumar Ragavan “Life is simple: you make choices and you don't look back. ” These words keep ringing in my head to this very day. Those exact words emerged because of the aftermath of my misdemeanor a couple years before I took to college.

My mom had made me write, “I will not hit my sister, I’m sorry Nanako” about a 2000 times.

My dad however said, “Why don’t we let her type it instead? It would be good for teaching her typing.” Mom had greed, however reluctantly. My eyes instantly lit up, I knew what I was capable of with the shining red Sharp X1 that we had. Instinctively I wrote an iterative loop in BASIC, dishing out even 5000 lines to the terminal, and just went back to doing my own shenanigans.

Mom was surprised that there were no mistakes and that I had over delivered on her line requirement.

“I really meant sorry, I went back and corrected them all”, the white lie that I told her which she completely bought word for word. Dad later sat me down and confronted me on what I did, but he did not say much other than those that linger in my thoughts to this very day.

I finally got up to clutch the keys I was running my fingers over firmly. I felt the engraved Nissan Logo under my fingertips as I walked out towards our garage.

The press of a button unsheathed the beauty that was hiding underneath, an ethereal fiend that emerged from it’s urbanic cave, A beauty under the sheets and a straight demon on the streets, my White ‘91 Silvia “Yuki Hime” S13 Coupe, which stood there proud, beaming in the midnight light. I had been smiling without realizing, but knowing full well this is what I needed. I gracefully pull the car out, the ‘Hime’ obeys the word of the throttle, as it should be. There's an eerie quiet in the idle of my ‘Hime’. Not for long however, I floor the throttle, letting her rip.

The Straight 4’s 2.0L SR20DET under the hood lets out a whine, backed by the squeal of the -10º cambered real wheels. As we approach the rev limit, I shift the gear away, teasing the redline ever so slightly, letting my throttle catch some air, but in the process all the built up intake pressure in the turbo is met with the closing of the throttle intake manifold flaps, the confusing amalgamation of which lets out the sweet sweet turbo flutter, all while easing out the clutch in one swift motion. Man that gets me everytime, like the sunrise you get to see staying up all night or the first cigarette after a week.

I whizz past the streets of Kawasaki, Kanegawa, a part of greater Tokyo. My stereo slips into a groove banger, “Midnight Pretender - Tomoko Aran”. My mind drifts off to the time of my first kiss I had back in America in the back of an ‘87 Corvette “Corvy” , when I was studying Economics at the John Hopkins University. We weren’t going anywhere, but that still doesn’t stop me from cherishing that memory.

This place has seen its fair share of Racers, Mechanics, Drift Kings grace it with their presence. The city breeze puts me at ease, because it brings me peace of mind. It is the perfect balance of traditional and modern Japan, never too behind, never too ahead, exactly what I’m familiar with. I initially struggled with my identity back in America, but this city lets me embrace all the mannerisms that make me me. As I pull away in the 2nd gear away from the signal lights, I catch a glimpse of a “Midnight Racing Club'' bumper sticker on a ‘89 Celica, as it zooms past me. Couldn’t possibly be a stock configuration. Kawasaki was home to the notorious “Midnight Racing Club” , a racing clique so respectable, even the cops make way for those bumper stickers, they too like most Japanese people were honorable, even in their difference in dissent. They’re famous for their “40 roll” racing and their street code. Only cars peaking 160 mph were even accepted. Racer gangs from Gunma and Ibaraki would often occupy the entirety of the Shuto Expressway between Tokyo and Yokohama and transform it into a race track, where they would clash.

Its members were legendary mechanics that would outclass cars leagues above their grade, all because of their tinker hand magic. I had the privilege of having one of these esteemed mechanics look into my “Hime”.

My Nokia handset goes off as I’m attacking a familiar corner, I realize it’s Iori hitting me up.

“Hai?” “Ishikawa-san? Kei Ishikawa?”

“Kei desu” “Come over the Yakisoba Regular, I got something to show you.”

“Iori? You better have not done something stupid, I can feel your grin across the phone Aho Iori.”.

There’s a pause.

I know exactly what he’s done.

He had gone and on impulse bought a Japanese Made Kuruma. Iori wasn’t exactly known for the most sane decisions.

“You Americajins are all the same” clicks I realize I have been driving the other way for a while now, I waste no time in effortlessly pulling off a U-turn over the T junction, I slowly take it out of an oversteer. Uh oh.

I guess a bystander caught me looking, however they're too stunned to do anything. Shouldn’t cause too much of an issue. What was an issue however, was what my family had been conniving in the background. Although Japan was the second largest power in the world, we were not setting certain things straight from what I hear. I’m painfully mindful of the fact that I’m a naysayer for just about anything that transpires in the world. I could not sit by and watch my closest friends and family take the fall because of the gluttonous corporations. However, The Japanese were too prideful like that, a little something I had realized in my stay in America. Nihonjin would stand by what they said, sometimes to their own demise. They would rather commit seppuku than overlook their pride. Fear, Shame and Guilt are all the fundamental driving forces of Japanese Society, something I would’ve been subject to had I stayed any longer. America had its own troubles, but it administered me with an appropriate amount of retrospection and outsider perspective to see what was truly going on.

Sometimes you have to transgress and denounce in search of truth. Truth does not change, however people’s interpretations of the truth is what is responsible for the provenance of a lot of things in the world. The Work Culture and Work Hours are getting unsustainable, employee suicide rates are peaking, productivity is at an all time low. I can discern the repercussions everywhere now. Phew, didn’t know I had all that in me. Let me not derail from my objective.

Japanese are the kind of people that would feel guilty about taking paid leaves, now where can you go tell that other than within Japan. A society powered solely by traditions and guilt, was going somewhere but just not places.

Oh turns out I just ran a redlight, I’m lucky that it's 1:40 AM, that was dangerous. I shouldn’t be on about my gripes with Japan. I chose to focus on getting to Iori for now. I had been excited to see Iori and Kohei. They’re always together, they’re inseparable like that. It had been a while since we’d hung out, just cruising around the streets of Tokyo, not a care in the world.

I subconsciously realized that the streets had been empty for a good while, and that in due time, the streets would look the same like this despite the day-night cycle. “.. there will be blood on the streets” I remember what my father had carefully told me, that the Japanese were about to lose their way, and faith. I realized I was back on the same topic.I zip past the yakisoba shop to my surprise, I had been driving silently, no music, just the eerie feeling of desolation on my mind. Right beside the well lit up shop, I see parked outside, basking in the neon sign glow - a brand new ‘91 Honda NSX in Sebring Silver.

“Iori you m-”

Clouds of Agony Overshadowed by darkness I knew I was in the wrong place I knew I didn't belong

Ishaan verma

I was slowly disappearing into solitude And it ignited my apprehension Swallowing me whole The storm of bittersweet memories Blew away the moments of joy I inhaled the air of hopelessness And it started to choke me But then your had came to liberate me Your soft kiss revived me Every time you held my hand Time stopped As I got lost in your eyes And stared into the universe You removed the fogs from my life And blurred the grotesque images of the past Restoring my tranquility.

Songs of Myself

AASTHA CHOPRA

“I wake up every morning to fight the same demons that left me so tired the night before, and that, for me, is bravery." I believe all of us in the tiniest of places in our hearts do the same. Sometimes these don't leave me sleep and then it is not bravery, it is exhausting. I'm scared of so many things in life, but somehow, if the world wants to give me the best of things and for whatever reason, I think I'll be fine. That if I ever find myself just chasing sunsets and celebrating other people's success, I can get by and still be thankful for every tomorrow. It's more like being scattered in pieces but beautiful. To those who try to heal people, not everyone has the capacity to heal the broken and sad. If sad people were just sad then it’d be a different story, but sad people do toxic things to cope even when they don’t mean to. Always lend an ear, but it’s important to safeguard your heart too.

Sadness spreads like a disease if you let it sit too long. Sadness comes from so many things and sometimes everything. You can see disappointment embodied and in full glory in the eye of someone who’s talking passionately about his almost dream. You can see the sparkle in their eyes and the passion in their tone talking about it enthusiastically. Before their tone dims down and a sort of helplessness and brokenness appears. Why this? Too many of us work at jobs we hate, just to put food on the table and a roof over our heads. Only the lucky or the rich get to follow their true passions. But what about our tiny dreams, which we don't realize but can feel the joy of them coming true? If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate.

Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed.

Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. But sometimes I think ​And I realized that the reason why good things were not happening to me as often as I wanted them to, was because I was a good thing that needed to happen. I needed to happen to me, to other people, and the world. And so I happened. I want to understand things and then be free of them. I needed to learn how to telescope things and ideas. Things were too big to see all at once, like all the books in the library...everything laying around on all the tables. You might be able to put it all into one paragraph or one verse of a song if you could get it right. Yes, life sucks sometimes but you can’t hold onto that forever. you have to stay alive for the good times. the times where you’re at a party and you sit and have deep talks with a girl/boy you just met and share a piece of your heart because sometimes opening up to a newfound friend is the best way to heal. stay alive for the times when you’re with your friends and laughing so hard that you tear up and your stomach gets tight. for the times where you’re so happy that all you can feel is sunshine pooling from your smile. for the times where things just feel so right and content. for the little things, like hot baths and coffee and autumn and going on adventures with your friends and driving with the window down, not caring how messy your hair gets or how silly you look jamming out. live unapologetically because life is too short to apologize for living. you have a right to claim this life and take it by the horns because you are not a slave to the world- the world is a slave to you. you have the power to rise above the struggles and shine amid the darkness. so do it. stop letting the darkness consume you, and consume the darkness with your light. things will get better only if you keep on pushing and keep on trying to reclaim your life and make it your own. You will be okay. You’ve got this.

Down behind the gates of darkness dwells the woman in a box, between heaven and hell with her broken heart singing a “song of myself”

The Uncrossed T

angad singh grover

What has my life come to Couldn't see past the hazed door Now the vivid paths stretch me thin Follow the frosted road To slip and be sour Blinded by the Glimmers of hope Opportunity of a lifetime I tell my dubious self Remove the rose glasses Might just change my paradigm Laugh one second Cry the next Ponder the future and the emotions I repress Dreams of Grandeur Or silence of disdain Whom to ask And whom to blame Follow the bandwagon Or find my own Don't wanna cry later Oh I wish I'd known

the debacle Of getting It Why can't i just love you

pearl kataria

why do we have to fight for my feelings

i think i think i think i enjoy your fingers the way they try to pierce through my skin and smash my heart into pieces just to make the most mundane of feelings and emotions come out I think i enjoy the process way more than i enjoy the happiness on your face when i say a few words and that's why you'll always have to fracture my ribs, stomp your way to see them because they're there and they're for you but im not courageous enough to say it to your face... i might be courageous enough but i just enjoy the pain i think i understand why your shadow doesn't fall on me any more i think i understand why you've different lips to kiss i think i get it. i mean i don't. i don't. i don't. i don't get it at all. i do i do get it, no i don't. i get it because i'm a rational human being i don't because i fucking want you and that that…

I miss being able to speak out loud the words locked in my chest i miss that.

I miss having a person who would crack through my ribs to get them out because those are at the end of the day razorblades and they need to be spoken out loud to become dandelions and sunflowers.

I miss that.

And i think that fucking hurts. It's ok i get it.

I get why you found different hands to grab and a different waist to hold.

It’s ok.

I mean you don't need my forgiveness rather i should be begging you for mine but it’s ok because i will never ask twice and you've asked a time too many.

If you're helping someone else out their boots or lending your jacket to them i get it.

I wish it weren't the case but i get it i get i get it i get it

Alizarin

Piyush Gulati

Alizarin refers to a dark-red dye pigment cultivated from the roots of the madder plant(Rubia Tinctorum) Alizarin is a language spoken in the tombs of the Pharaohs, in the ruins of Pompeii, ancient Athens, and in Turkish ballads; Alizarin is a homage to Maa Durga, symbolic of fertility and win over evil, it ignites the soul within, the matriline of eve bleeds alizarin every moon cycle, to show the world that they are not a force to be reckoned with;

Alizarin is love infused in a wine glass, and the works of Austen and Shakespeare have screamed through the ages, that there can be no love without blood, and the blood that falls to the ground is alizarin; It is no literal wonder that the plant that yields alizarin is rightfully named ‘madder’, For is it with madness that soldiers paint their swords in alizarin, and the fire that burns bright in the eyes of lovers is alizarin; The tale of alizarin cannot be complete without the mention of Hestia, Goddess of hearth and fire, It is a color so strong that it will stain history for millenia.

Unveiling the Hades Jessica Punj

While you refill your ink pen to write a column on democracy remind yourself that a valiant girl in some corner of the universe was once shot in a school bus for wishing to hold one, that speaking out is in itself a privilege.

When other side of the truth is ignored and crushed like pamphlets of a restaurant people convinced you isn't healthy for your compliant-passive tongue, demand answers.

Demand answers before they presume they don't owe you any and bury your questions with the ruins of what you once called your home but is now haunted by the ghosts of your survivor's guilt while your fellow countrymen suffered the wrath of political vendettas.

Remind yourself that we're a tiny part of the world where rich attend business meetings in linen-suits and get richer but the poverty-stricken mass morphs into robots at exactly 1pm, gather around mandir bhandaras holding their styrofoam plates like small ants who got stepped on enough times but still came out stronger.

You owe it to the poor, to the manual labour class, to the farmers back in your village, in every village, in every lane, in every phoenix that burns in wooden flames.

Rumour is the person who speaks out is demonized like a city air declared hazardous, so to be a part, to protect your loved ones, they'll expect you to play a role and the role demands you to act, so you wear a facade and act, since it's easier to save yourself than try and save a nation of a billion.

But I request you to SPEAK. Even if every bone of your body flinch when you do.

Even if your well-wishers tell you not to.

Speak, because there's still so much hope, because there has to be.

scales of justice Atulya mani tripathi

Justice is blind.

Blind to what you did, as long as your surname is right.

Blind to who you killed, as long as the body wasn’t white.

Blind to who’s being massacred, as long as they have oil.

Blind to who is assaulted, long as there’s a political party to join.

But is justice even a part of the picture?

Your flawed human construct, is it even a permanent fixture?

Your laws and your codes, you want them to thrive. When they don’t know if they will survive?

Your justice and vengeance, your hopes and dreams, Your hunger for power through your inhuman schemes, You live in a world where you think of the next 5 years, While their existence is denied, met with jeers.

“Too insensitive” you say, hiding behind ‘dark humor’ “Coping mechanism”, you say, as you cover up the torture “I help them deal, you don’t understand” you say, The ‘peacekeeping force’, loading up the mortar.

The Last Rachel D'SILVA

Symphony

There was a great city, built within great walls; of whom all people, walked proud and tall.

Never did they fear attacks from around; for they had great faith in their holy ground.

But one day an earthquake both strong and mighty; struck their poor land t’was a curse from almighty.

It destroyed their city not a building survived; all hope was lost none left alive.

Except for four walls within which lay; a lovely piano old, rusty and gray.

T’was this piano that was once played; by a carefree young lad for his fair maid.

Indeed, they were in love they did not care for the world; together entangled hearts in a swirl.

Love kept them alive both happy and young; they were only too pleased their hearts always sung.

He played her a tune unique, his very own; to prove to her that their love had grown.

But disaster struck the earthquake didn’t spare them; bodily separated souls to meet in heaven.

But the piano survived a symbol of love; as proof to this world of their undying love.

No distance can separate two hearts from each other. once set ablaze by love remain true forever The greatest gift of all has thus been revealed to us; it is not infact love but that ability of ours.

RAMBLINGS Ishita gupta & alabh raj taru Two people, sitting on different rooftops, beers in one hand and phones in the other. (shares post) [Verse 2] I haven’t told anyone Just like we promised Have you?

Every time I drive through the city where you’re from I squeeze a little Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it

The promise was unsaid. And claw marks go both ways.

The promise wasn't there.

And claw marks only on the other side.

The promise wanted to be there.

But we were scared. And claw marks unseen, Waiting to be unveiled.

But it broke, chipped off slowly.

And the claw marks, hah, maybe we were just too scared to unveil them.

And then we were scarred, Too afraid to pick up the broken pieces which fell apart.

And to unveil the scars, it needs another pair of hands.

But where do you find another pair of hands? when each soul is so afraid of bloody scars, which fail to heal with time unlike, how all the books said they would.

Maybe we don’t need to find, Maybe we need to be found.

By something so profound, that time itself unwound.

Can you really be found when you’re running away from it, that too in no particular direction.

What if they’re running away too. Directionless.

And then at one random moment, you collide. (and that right there, is hope) But what if, You just keep missing each other.

Even if you keep missing, can you really stop running?

One wants to hope that you don’t.

You can’t.

Because you’ll always be waiting to collide with that certain someone.

You can’t is more fitting. But even if you stop and sit down, you’ll not be the first one.

Another tired soul may find solace and sit down too.

Those broken can understand the pain of each other.

But that isn’t what all is needed, is it?

I believe bonding over pain is the better of bonds.

And broken finds broken.

Broken needs broken, doesn’t it?

Broken may complete broken.

But the pieces may not always fit

All pieces will never fit. And they don’t need to.

Willing to just hold the pieces, collect the scattered unfitting ones isn’t fulfilling enough?

Maybe it is, but the thought of the unknown makes my mind and heart ache The unknown is terrifying, It’s supposed to make you freeze, At the same time, if you believe, Really believe, and take a leap, The result may be worth the fear.

The ‘may’s and ‘might’s are too ambiguous to take the leap but maybe,(another maybe) that’s all the broken soul has.

The fear, the belief(maybe) the pain, the relief(maybe) and insane amounts of uncertainty… well, to uncertainty? to uncertainty. *clinks bottles in the air, miles apart*

A Message

This is a message.

For that is all anyone can muster these days.

Empty or otherwise, it's all the same.

Those colors and shapes don't hold your emotions And ink doesn't hold your voice.

But a message, nonetheless.

For whenever it may concern And I hope you find it at the right time Because you know I won't be able to say it then.

I don't wish to sit under the stars with you I really don't.

But I do hope to hold that cold breeze in my hand A breeze that I know will never come.

I don't wish to lie right next to you in a park I really don't.

But I do hope to count the petals of that wildflower A flower I know that I'll never see.

I don't wish to see the sun go down with you I really don't.

But I do hope that wave comes crashing down on me A wave that I know will never come.

I don't wish to be with you and call you mine Or maybe I do.

But I do hope that I can look into your eyes And maybe know how you look at me.

Perhaps one day you'll read this.

One day that may or may not come whenever.

But since whenever seems like a long time Tonight, I'll just write poetry under the stars instead.

Chinmay goyal

Confirmation Bias

Shivansh Khurana

Much of what happens, isn't about religion at all, in fact religion is just a trigger point because collectively, no matter the existence of our relationship with religion or the lack of it, on a subconscious level we have always belonged to a side. The trenches were always drawn, and through generations, it did heal but now they have been scratched open again, willingly or unwillingly. Even though most of us didn't even face the true adverse nature of religion incited violence, the constant projection by the media of our past, our politicians with their agendas, our parents and grandparents with their experiences, tragic as they might be, have deeply seared the bias in our brains.

We need to ask ourselves what our own relationship is with religion? On an individual level do we hide behind it, use it only as a safety net or let it breathe life within us, governing our entire state of being? Because in unity through religion we tend to find comfort in the anonymity of it all, that tomorrow if something happens, we either benefit from it collectively or can deflect responsibility as individually we hadn't taken a stand. And that's what we need to do, take a stand so that we don't give up our free will and let those who want to misdirect us through thought, succeed in this whole divisive process. We need to step back and understand that the unholy trinity of government, media and opposition is not on anyone's side. What we all are, are mere numbers to them, and as long as they can sway the numbers in any which way, they all will profit at the end. Everyone seems to ask which side you're on, when the truth remains that you just need to be on your own side and give the liberty to others to be on theirs.

If we empower the individual, empower them to understand that their relationship with religion lies in their heart, not in the illusion of color, scriptures, sermons, nations and everything else that has always been used to divide us, then we can change the narrative at play and understand that we are far more than what we have been born into. Engage each other in conversations that focus on what ignites their beliefs, ponder over the actual difficult questions, don't shy away from conflicts, they are a healthy component of seeding in the muchrequired change but do step away from the blame game and truly listen, just listen.

This will bring the responsibility back into our own hands and makes us accountable for our own processing of individual identity and we can put a stop to hiding behind the garb of manufactured religious dissent and slowly create an environment for true, progressive discourse, and a hopeful future where we can completely focus on development and growth as a true, democratic republic.

Saturdays with my childhood

Pearl Kataria

Sunny, cloudless blue skies A typical Egyptian late summer sky The smell of jasmine wafts in the air As I crush a few petals under my bike I take out my 12-year-old We struggle to carry the bike till the parking It’s all worth it as we Glide down the slope exhilarated, wind filling our lungs.

Hair swaying behind, knotting itself Like a peanut at the hands of squirrels, cheeks break into a delightful smile unbridled joy Thighs burn as we go back up the slope, steadfast and dedicated we make it to the top and glide down to do it all over again until we’re exhausted Poof she disappears as I enter the house, The 5-year-old skips over, holds my hand Leads me to our blue room, Such a conscious kid of gendered colours, who loved pink yet Blue room We twirl and pirouette to reach the comb and hair ties Rush to mumma with the things in one hand the other making waves from the last tom n jerry episode.

That’s probably where I lost my faith because no matter how hard I prayed, how much I hoped I would never see the lady’s face The dilemma, my grandma’s soft hands folding mine in a prayer She is so wise how can she be so wrong

From the syrupy bittersweet moments of friction yes, I’m referring to my hair yes, I’m referring to perspective’s conflict Rose my 16-year-old, Eyes heavy with sleep and smudged kohl Chapped lips Speaking words that found their way in many lives, albeit unknowingly.

Their quiet rebellion of staying up till 3 reading the honest truths both bad and good of the world It was only with her that I noticed the night sky, Sparkling stars, an old wisened moon sitting upon its throne.

Clouds whose colors were hidden by the darkness, emphasizing the blank state of the world Ready to be colored in my colors The clock strikes midnight I put away my chits, my portals to these kids notes people left me from those time Like Cinderella they’ll vanish into hibernation, Till next Saturday When I go to meet them again

ORIGINS

Atulya mani tripathi

Putting my origins into a rhyme feels like reading Once Upon A Monsoon Time A book

by Ruskin Bond, my first novel, I still have it collecting dust Roald Dahl came up next, Painting pictures with his text A kid's wild imagination captured, prose so pretty I'm moved to raptures Feynman, Stein, Riordan, Rowling kept my book collection growing, Physics, horror and fantasy-fiction my set was the jack, master of none Companions when I had none, comfort when I seeked some, romance and thrill, love and lust, villains filling my soul with disgust.

I could smell the roses, see the shades of orange feel the wind and hear the creak of the door hinge Books let me see worlds I could never, every new book, a new endeavor romantic woods and cozy nooks. in my room sitting with a pile of books

Loyalty

Risible Katyal

Loyalty to me: whose meaning I didn't know before initiating writing, For a long time, I pondered with my teeth busy with nail biting.

I sank myself deep into the ocean of thoughts, but couldn't get anything impressive to jot.

Well, finally I looked up to the dictionary for help, Is this my loyalty that I've so far developed?

My loyalty to myself, my conscience, my intellect, Am I not capable enough, that it's vague meaning I could myself detect?

So then I cheated, tricked myself; just to be sure, but the meaning I landed up with; my confusion could still not be cured.

Well the conclusion: I made my loyalty to myself kneel down on the floor, The inevitable monster of a dilemma in my mind regarding the word still roared.

But by that time, I had partially understood what loyalty meant, And if it is broken for just a fraction of second, how it really felt.

Now I think of those who were loyal to themselves but not to others, Or those who had neither of the above to bother.

I even think of those to whom no-one showed loyalty, No matter how rich, just below their feet, stirred up in sand, fell their royalty.

Well now; now I take myself in the picture, To have a glance, if my wall of life had any loyalty's texture.

And I concluded, it is half filled and half yet to be.

I got to know the reason behind the blank area, the minute I broke my loyalty to me.

It might also be blank, because at some point, deliberately or not, I might have broken someone's loyalty, that now I need to sought.

So, to those people, I apologize, for I intentionally never meant to do that to you, Give me a chance to make amends, and I'll make you happy and satisfied with what next I do...

Since I've already made mends, let's talk about the other part, The part of my life filled with loyalty, I received or imparted to other's hearts.

The very reason why it is filled, I got to know just right now; is no matter initially I made my intellect to stoop so low; Because I made myself dig into the internet to get is essence, But I was loyal to my true image, showing what I'm and what I'm not, hence; I took this petty incident and wrote about the same, Because I depict my every image, if intelligent, then dumb, if happy then sad, to others without shame; The glass where the level of loyalty to myself initially went down, Has now heaped up twice and hence I wear it as a crown.

For others what loyalty means; well to guess that, I'm still fighting, Loyalty to Me: whose meaning I got to know just after finishing writing.

Nature's Skits Aspan Dhillon

Lying on the dew-laid grass, Watching havens of clouds pass The grass is fluttering ‘neath me, Leaning against the trunk of that old tree I feast my eyes, Watching the king of skies.

Admiring the hawk’s plumage, Forgetting the term –age The jocund scent of plumeria blossom, Nature remains forever awesome.

The breeze brings the promise of rain, And horses begin flicking their mane The cattle are ambling, Slippers are slapping.

The sun is crawling over my skin, ‘Tis delicious to feel the rich wind I’m startled out of wits, Being a spectator of nature’s skits.

Clay Kalash Jain

There is a mould of clay in my yesterday A piece of clay moulded into mythical magic Just short of approachable to any onlooker That dares to map their fingerprint Over the vastness of this vase, Yet to be contorted into the present, unruly.

But malleable than the tomorrow.

This desolate vase, once filled by the echo Of a thousand drumstick fingers rattling this cage And yet, a cage.

Though rejoiced as a fresh maroon, Soon to be loved, if not yet already, Kept on the shoulders of the relevant, Even if just to vent, like a coin toss in a wishing well.

Adored was the mould, the mould was profound, Never on the ground, as though amongst the clouds, But, Solidifying to an older age where the Rough edges and smudges manifest a reality There wasn’t much say about.

All that was asked was not to budge, Even if an obsolete grudge had to be kept Like a broken mirage, But not to break was the only task Even if we were to mask the scratches That we weren’t so proud of.

And thus, tomorrow arrives Like a bride in a tattered grey dress, A mess on the shop floor And the vase falls, deeper Perhaps unto itself, Help, cries the echo, upon which The chasm of its entirety falls forth.

Or does it.

Piece by piece, the mould set back Perhaps not entirely on track but still It’s stuck back with duct tape and blood spilt As guilt rattles the cage one last time.

No onlooker drums their fingers anymore.

Others look from far away, Stay, the mould begs, but the air escapes, Through broken hearted cracks.

Once covered by fake smiles Bought at gift shops for pennies He found in the same wishing well.

A hand to set the mould straight, To push the date back on his self-hate If not too late, to be mended back Into a vase that when yelled Unto its own chasm, Spelt his name and nothing else, And that, Was enough.

RULES FOR Arushi Aggarwal

Ages 12 to Adult For 4 or More Players QUICK! How do you get your team to say APPLE? You can’t say RED, FRUIT, PIE, CIDER, or CORE. They’re TABOO® — utterly unmentionable words!

Think fast, talk fast and don’t say a TABOO word or you'll get buzzed and lose a point!

For Example If your word is CONVERSATION, you CANNOT say SPEAK,CARRY, TALK, PEOPLE, or BETWEEN but you CAN say, “We used to do a lot of this when we first met but not anymore.

This game is the first time in weeks we’ve held a this beyond 10 minutes. It used to come so easy to us, eagerly scoping the other out in a crowded room because our day had been full of dull small this, pesky bosses, the exasperating mishappenings of daily life and we wanted to share it with each other only. And now?

Words have failed us. Or do you reckon it was us, Steve?”

If your word is ANSWERING MACHINE, you CANNOT say AUTOMATIC, MESSAGE, RECORD, TELEPHONE Or MACHINE

but you CAN say, “We were at a Panda Express over three years ago, debating the merits of pursuing a graduate programme when it was leaving us penniless, leading you to call your parents in a last-ditch effort for help with rent. They didn’t pick up but their this lightened up with a cacophony of two voices, giggling in a way unseemly for their age until we both heard the familiar beep, indicating they weren’t at home. Ditching our prior debate, we leapt face forward into a discussion about how getting a this together is the most subtlest of ways to show the world you’ve committed. “Hi! This is Julia and this is Steve!” in the most cheerful of manners, letting the caller know that yes, we are together and look at us, we are so together we have a home. We are sharing a life! We moved in together the very next day, rent problems seemingly non-existent in our shoebox-sized apartment because the future together seemed so bright, just like our voices. That’s what happened, Julia.”

If your word is WEDDING , you CANNOT say MARRIAGE, BRIDE, GROOM, BACHELORETTE or BACHELOR but you CAN say, “We had this two years ago,” or “We hate being invited to these”. You CAN also say, “This is where I proposed to you two years ago at your sister’s this, hiding away from our concerned relatives about our this and friends swearing they’ll never be a part of this patriarchal institution on the kids table at the very back. You sat on absurdly small chairs and for the first time in two hours, I didn’t think of the heels pinching my feet or how overly emotional this had made me but only of how gigantic you looked in comparison to the chair, the contrast throwing me off. I remember laughing, feeling a surge of love for you in the moment as you looked at me smiling and that’s when I realized : This is what I wanted. Forever. I wanted to wake up to this smile everyday. And it occurred to me, right there in the this, that I had fallen for you completely. I was irreparably head over heels for this person who, three years ago, had slid up next to me, drunk, at a library and, as if he knew me, slurred into my ear, “Someone will love you even when you choose to be an overworked engineering student on a Friday night” and I had scoffed, Steve, even then I had scoffed at your gall but look at us now.”

If your word is FOCUS, you CANNOT say AROUND, MIDDLE, POSITION, CENTER or CIRCLE but you CAN say, “The blurry picture is not in this,” or “My teachers always said I never had the this to do well,” or “Sometimes, I can’t this when I am at work or at game nights or even when I am talking with you. I find myself thinking about us a lot and when I do, I always see myself on the top of a skyscraper, just looking down at real life passing me by and how far away I feel from it. What do you think that means, Julia? I know I should this on the present and maybe it wouldn't feel like I am far away but even when I try to, you seem so out of reach despite being across me."

If the word is CHANGE, we suggest saying, "This is what we did, gradually, imperceptibly but definitely. Despite how hard we've both tried, I am not the same person who recorded a voicemail with you for our answering machine and you're not the same person I fell in love with at that wedding two years ago. But this is good, it gives us the space to grow but sometimes people don't grow together. It’s an old cliché that women break up with men because they think they’ll this because we are convinced we can fix him and they don’t, and men break up with women because they think they won’t this and they do, but is there also a cliché about why men and women stay together despite this? I am afraid the truth will swallow us whole” but you don't say this. You say, "PASS" and your teammates will look at you, aware you're missing a point but also profoundly oblivious that they've stumbled into a passive fight. You will say, "I am sorry, guys, I don't want to do this one" and they'll groan and call you a spoilsport.

If your word is TOMORROW, you CANNOT say DAY, TODAY, YESTERDAY, AFTER, or FUTURE—there are a whole lot of things you can’t say—but you CAN say, “This terrifies me and I don’t know why. A silly part of me hopes this never comes because I can control how I behave in the present and I know who I am right now but I am not sure this will be the same. If our this doesn't look like our now, do I have the strength to bear it? Can I make it to this?"

If your word is TOUCH, you CANNOT say HANDS, FINGER, FEEL, SENSE or REACH, but you WILL say, “Last night I tried to hug you but when I did, thinking I'll know just what's on your mind from one this, I hit a wall. I could make out nothing and for the first time in a long while, I realized I don't know who you are anymore. Are we just two strangers in bed? Have we just stuck together because it's comfortable and familiar? How foolish of me. How foolish of us all.”

You can PASS, and then your teammate can PASS, and then you can thank your poor guests who've caught on to what's happening and don't quite know how to behave as you clear away the game from the living room, crumpling the rules sheet which had misled you into thinking this was an impersonal game. You can say, “This was fun,” in an absent tone that makes it clear that you don’t really mean it, but you don’t exactly not mean it either. And before you crawl off to bed, thinking about tall skyscrapers and dollhouse chairs, you CAN remind yourself to get Monopoly for next game night but you won't, because that's how good TABOO® is.

matrimonials

ARUSHI AGGARWAL SIMRAN TYAGI If you ever saw someone in a cooler outfit than yours saying “sounds like a you problem” at the PEC market stairs with the fruit uncle’s cold coffee in one hand then you were most likely in the vicinity of Arushi. A self proclaimed cool kid and an almost perfectionist you’d be surprised with the sheer number of chaotic incidents that bear her name. From nearly falling off from the balcony of her hostel to cracking a television screen in some hotel room, she has repeatedly made it clear the only right way to do a successful airbnb party is her.

When it comes to guys, it appears that they have risked it all to get her attention, from running behind cabs to putting on a terrible show for her near the JMC when they could have had a much better chance if they had simply pretended to be a stray cat. As someone who has been described as an intimidating fairy godmother by her juniors, it’s no surprise that her constant “is this the best you can manage?” resting face kept the club members on their toes Sometimes a book hoarder and sometimes a book reader, she has often found comfort flipping pages one after the other for as long as she can remember. Maybe it’s because of all that hope that novels can hold inside them or maybe she has always had a propensity to look for hopeful beginnings in places where others might see the end of something, it is definitely something she would like to hold onto forever.

Her girlfriends have a gut feeling that she is probably going to miss walking to the Pink Floyd wall and clicking pictures of pretty evening skies this city has to offer more than anyone else amongst them. You can bet that this is not going to stop her from missing our campus thanks to all the fond memories it somehow has become a home to and how you can come across purple coloured trees when the season is just right.

If you see someone roaming around college in an outfit that slays every day, filled with amiability, possibly laughing along with her group of friends, all beneath a calm pleasant smile it makes you wonder where she stores this energy, then maybe you had the fortune of sighting our amazing Commentator, Simran Tyagi.

When given a moment of opportunity, she puts in all her efforts and assets. But don’t be fooled by how calmly she seems to handle everything because she may be calm and composed on the outside but give her two drinks, put on a dance-worthy song, and you’d know the real meaning of what fun means.

Leaving all her amazing-self aside, here’s what her matrimonial would look like. No, she doesn’t have sky-high requirements that can’t be touched from under a Social dance pole, in fact, just two-how you need to be a good listener and honest. Faced with one too many boy trouble sagas, she definitely knows how to pick the right man, maneuvering her way through the most bizarre situations.

But getting down to business, there are certain qualities that are essential in any guy who manages to bag her. Those qualities are having a passion for life, not making it look easy, and being someone with a direction in life. Did we mention that being hot is a major plus?

Other skills like a spontaneous homebody, zero toxicity, not acting like a ‘simp’ for sim, and the ability to handle her under all sorts of situations will guarantee you extra, extra brownie points, for sure.

VIVEKANAND KUNNATH Usually celebrity columnists litter their articles with the words sensational, never seen before, mind blowing more often than not, though these words barely hold their weight in water. That is not the case with Vivek, the dude that tried to give squirrel hunting lessons in the first year and the bizarreness and craziness has just started.

Let's go a little back to Vivek’s high school experience. His mode of transport was his feet, i.e. he ran to school, sounds like the story our parents tell us “when we were young we swam across the river etc, etc”. T. Vivek has made 17 trips over ‌2.5 offline college years. He hitchhiked, lived in the cheapest places, spent a night with a keralite nun-priest couple, and then came back to Chandigarh (alive). His antics on campus aren't any more solemn, provocative dancing in front of NAB, NSFW football bets, deceiving his friends by stating that he was initiated into the ritual with them even though he had done it with his partner before (earned him a lot of interesting words when this came up during the interview).

If you thought his movie style life is over, then you're sorely mistaken. When Vivek finally made it to his hometown, he decided that the statewide curfew was optional, so he ran across town and climbed up the 200kg ladder (that his partner positioned minutes before), while helping a friend fill out a college application, to meet his lover.

And as is the case in rom-coms when he was leaving the next day he almost got caught.

So far, it may feel like he is just there for the vibes and that while it may be true, he is extremely helpful, hardworking and diligent. From his internship to his papers in college to his future plans, Vivek knows how to maintain the perfect balance between play and work, a skill we all hope to master someday.

DIVYA DHANANJAYAN The certified mallu of the college, Divya Dhananjan is everyone’s favorite: from juniors who absolutely adore and look up to her, to guys who run miles for her. She’ll claim she hasn’t had that wild of a college life, but don’t fall for it. It’s a ruse, and we’ll show you why.

An erratic first semester; she almost signed up for aerospace engineering when she ran into a fellow mallu, who by the way, she recognized by intuition, and changed up to mechanical after a fruitful conversation with them. Hindi has always been her forte, but the guy near the ATM, who was left without answers may say otherwise. She never had much trouble with grades, because the professors never got the memo to translate.

We all have our drunk stories, but Divya’s break records. From frozen pizzas and balcony naps to broken butts and concussions, she’s had them all. Don’t get her wrong though, she’s a fabulous dancer, her classic move being headbangs, and has had her effect on everyone who witnesses it, including curtains, rods and windows.

She’s the sweetest(and kinkiest) and the most approachable person you’ll see. as long as you’re not in a hospital. She and her curls both have a fanbase of their own. And as she completes the circle pursuing her masters in Aerospace again, we send her all the luck and love going forward!

RACHEL D'SILVA If the phrase “never judge a book by its cover” was a person, it would be Rachel D’Silva.

A shy, introverted and quiet person at the first, it won’t take long for you to find something you both share interests in.

Be it sports, music, dance, traveling, or an annoying pro, with Rachel, you’ll always have something to vibe on. Being an absolute sucker for traveling, she’s been to a number of places around the world throughout her college life, and simultaneously has had her share of “adventures” within the country. But she doesn’t need foreign lands to have fun.

When it comes to pan-college stories, she’s played the NAB spy and the Vindhya runaway, both. We all have our blooper moments during events, but they would never be as theatrical as Rachel's.

An excellent record holder with basketball, volleyball and football to name a few, her sports abilities also showcase amazingly when she’s intoxicated. Having spanned an entire mall and a local market(on two different occasions, though), you wouldn’t dare to doubt her stamina. Nevertheless, another thing which is undoubtedly a constant amongst her closest ones, when talking about her was her kindness and her spontaneity, something we absolutely love about her. Described as the ‘best dance partner’, you can never have a dull moment with this ‘daaru badnaam’ lover.

There aren’t many pre-requisites to be on her ideal date list, but narcissism and bad calf muscles are a deal breaker. Just be up for an exciting day at a theme park and some meaningful chat (and have good forearms), and you’ll be in her good books of her heart.

She’s euphoric, she’s funny, she’s intoxicating and she runs. She loves the stars and she loves the moon, and it won’t be long before she takes the leap and reaches there herself.

DHRUV ROHIL The well-groomed beard of Dhruv Rohil is surprisingly the least amazing and striking thing about him. If it seems unbelievable now, then just read this out. Described as weeb by his friends among many other censored words, Dhruv named himself as Jango Fett, the Star Wars icon. He may have joined Drams for his inner passion, but he definitely joined the Ed Board for a senior whom he found cute. He used both his skills magnificently, killing it on stage and breaking people’s hearts with his poetry.

His ability to manage a club life both Ed Board and Drams should be taught as a course for any junior.

He would advise his first-year self to not take anything seriously and what would be a better example than him hiding his placement news from his own family!

From getting himself and two other guys dates for fresher night to having full attendance in English labs due to a certain teacher, from getting pranked into giving a class presentation in full formals to giving his own brother the last seat for his performance and being nicknamed the ‘unaged menace’. Dhruv has been there and done it all, and this is just a scratch on the surface. The perfect way to define Dhruv would be his intern incident, where he changed departments, tried to help his friends, helped one to get re-hired nd the fired again, and ultimately left the company along with his friends, but not before he sent them a cryptic mail hiding his thoughts on them which they probably couldn’t figure out till date.

A full package of the engineering life, the fun, the panache, the heartfulness and the learning. The evericonic beard, with memorable performances on stage, both as an actor and a literature lover, with all his craziness, cheerfulness, and loveTHAT is Dhruv.

SHRIYA DAYAL If you were ever to hear someone shout “who wants change!” bet your ice cream but the first hand to raise from the crowd or the first shout of “Yes”, would be Shriya Dayal!

Shriya is the embodiment of not losing hope.

After getting stuck studying a degree she had no interest in,she was not demotivated, and through her four years of college without losing out on the fun, she has managed to successfully not break her spirit and do precisely what her heart told her to. She may seem like a very puttogether senior who’s full of comfort and support for you but if you’re lucky enough, you’ll get to see the anxious highs and lows and the bombardment of her singing clips that her friends know her for.

She is what her friends would describe as, ‘tangible form of pure optimism’, and you’ll know why the moment you meet her. If you dive a little deeper into what she wishes her match to be like, she’ll spill her heart out over a bottle of wine, and tell you how she would want her ideal date to be a simple combination of a peaceful environment, watching the stars and thought-provoking exchange of point of views with someone who knows how to, preferably, sing or play at least one instrument.

If you pester her some more, she’ll even tell you how she hopes for him to be lean and tall with just the right amount of beard. Our ma’am is the secretary of the Women Empowerment Cell, rightfully so, as she knows exactly what and what not she wants in her match. So, if you’re looking to be her partner, be quick in buying your online course on ‘how to learn any one musical instrument asap’ and get your beard growing, bestie, because if not for these qualities, you might not even be shortlisted. Good luck!

AARON NEWTON Long hair check Earrings (fake) check Bohemian prints check Looks like a kid Bingo! You've just met Aaron, our own very darling music seccy who learnt to outgrow his “interesting” music choices but his love for music has remained steadfast if not been steadily increasing. In fact one of his fondest memories is returning to the music room after the last issue of the online semester.

Yet that's not what really defines a person, does it (or maybe it does for you, your body, your choice)? A deployer and receiver of the best lame jokes Aaron colored his college life with the most amusing of stories He will never admit it but in some way ends up taking care of everyone after they've had a bit too much at a party, and even if it sometimes ends with very elaborate stories to explain to authority figures what's happening and why they have an unconscious friend in their car.

College threw many curveballs at him, some cooler than others like his intern workplace turning out to be selling itself as something they weren’t..Aaron,however, is the exact opposite of that, a genuine guy who gives it how it is whether that means telling juniors how to park their expectations or admitting openly where he needs to work and how he will do so. He seeks the same qualities in his partner, try to be a poser and in a blink of an Aaron will be miles away from you. There is so much to Aaron like his opinions on accommodation for fests or what kind of bets he makes or what his plans for the future are; the list is endless.

But it's more fun to hear those things from the horse’s mouth itself, perhaps over some cold coffee?

ANOUSHKA SAHU Chirpy, cheerful, and single-handedly responsible for her favorite cafes’ revenue surpassing Bhutan’s GDP; Anoushka Sahu has been a headline-maker since she took the Music Club by storm with her audition. From a personality based in California, through gossip and rumors all the way to veganism, you can count on her to stand her ground- and yours, if you are her friend- and have a stock of snacks.

Often found in her natural habitat in PECMarket surrounded by her friends, she’s the ideal senior: she instantly puts people at ease, and she’s easy to talk to, the fountain of knowledge for old and new aspects of college life. Her friends describe her as strong, crazy, and spontaneous, a perfect summary of her years in PEC; from PECFest and pasta stories to interesting interactions with professors.

Glitterati stands testament to the consistency of her fashion sense, heading the event despite being unable to participate in the event before.

The loud music in Vindhya that went from a complaint to a mainstay and her singing in the hallway are hallmarks of her love of music, which shone through in her dedication to the Music Club.

Between cop stories and Nayagaon bans, Sahu’s life is a movie waiting to be made, a stranger-than-fiction tale that ends in a romantic reunion in Paris.

THE THE BEANS BEANS BEHIND THE SCENES

ek Viv

Divya

Rac hel

i ish v A

Iyaad

hil k i N

Kalash

Jes sica

an a h Is

Akshay

chi a Sa

Pearl

rsh a Sp

Chinmay

She ron

Atulya

Piyu sh

Alab h

Yuvr aj

Th

Asp an

ta Ishi

Dhruv*

ad g n A

e

Aastha

*Image is not representative of the person and is only to catfish potential partners

sh n a v Shi

Risible

Bean

s

ran m i S

Aru shi