Baboon Logic

Yes, apart from mushy love stories, I also hate the triumph of human spirit over all adversities and obstacles. I don’t mind people dying gruesome deaths left right and all over the place, and I don’t mind being blamed a bum for watching them, but I can’t just stand those biopics hailing the greatness of the human spirit, nor can I sit there in front of the Television being inspired by courageous teachers who teach their students to be different and celebrate their individuality.

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Prakash doesn’t come in his trademark leather jacket, goggles and helmet any more, but his exploits continue to inspire our lives. Here are two anecdotes uncovered in a recent conversation with Puneet.

1) When Puneet joined C** as a research scholar, he had only two seniors, Prakash and Saket. Those were his greener days, and he didn’t know better than to call them Prakash Sir and Saket Sir.

Eventually, bored with the tedium of formality, Saket told him one day, “Don’t call me Saket Sir, just Saket will do!”

As it happened, Prakash told him the next day, “Don’t call me Prakash Sir, just Sir will do!”

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For a long time, I was in search for a word for the description I had for S(hila)ditya. My search was finally complete when I overheard S(war)nav (who describes himself as a girl vegetarian) delivering one of his nonsensical PJs and was inspired to make up this new word -

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To my absolute horror, I have just realized that about seventy percent of the fiction I pen down are love stories. Or love poems.

I guess that this trait can be traced back to one of my Freudian nightmares in childhood, but that doesn’t help me in coping up with this mess. I mean, what sort of people keep writing one love story after another! Someone might try to point out P G Wodehouse here; but then, he was funny. Anything can be excused if it is funny enough.

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You two have been talking for a long time. She loves telling you all about her life, all the unnecessary details, and those silly things she made up to fill the narrative oversights that life commits while unfolding.

The windows are open and the lights have been switched off. The few rays that manage to come in get lost behind her hair and you have difficulty in figuring out the details of her face. You are lost. Everybody around has forgotten you and you are lost.

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The Sexiest Men in C** - not to be mistaken as The Sexist Men in C**, into which category I have been recently drafted by SS, albeit wrongly, I must say.

The list here comes from the archives of Official C** Weekend Survey Committee (CWeeSuCo). The nominees are, however, not listed according to their ranks, except for (Jay)nth, who was voted as the sexiest man of the semester and comes at the end of the list. There was no special photo session for the event marking this publication, and stock photos had to be used. We are sure, however, that it’ll not detract the readers from these timeless beauties.

It should be noted that Be(lli) had to be dropped from the list because we were unable to locate his photographs.

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