Badax: The Bachelor Arts' Diary at Xaviers

The Badax is a lightly humorous take on life at St. Xaviers College, one of the most prestigious institutions in India, updated daily by a Bachelor of Arts Student (who is indeed honored to be studying there!)

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The Last Page

You know when you absolutely have to study, but you can't take it anymore? That's when your crazy mind starts to kick in. That's what might be going through all of our minds right now. Yes, it's that time of the year again. Or rather, that time of the month, seeing as we have an exam every month. Perfect. The first thing that comes to my mind when I think "Exam" is "notebook." And that's what I'm going to talk about. Now where would we be without our trusty notebooks? Let's pick one up right now. Neatly bound pages, straight printed lines, title page announcing your boredom for the next twelve hours, beyond that, black or blue patterns (depending on which pen you prefer) writing the script of your life for the next week and a half... Wait a minute, did I say "title page?" Let's re-work that. How about we DON'T start from the title page, and start from the last page instead? Now isn't that much better? (Insert smiley face here). I've always maintained that if you want to know a person in absolute detail, the first things you look at are the last pages of his/her notebook. And the heavier the title page sounds, the better. You'll get an even more intimate perspective into your concerned individual's personality. The last page of a notebook will be filled with complex patterns, scribblings, and other such drawings and thoughts that the person would jot at that point of boredom or sleepiness in the lecture. And the colors! Maybe the Malhar FA and Graffix departments should ask for a color Xerox of the last page of a person's notebook to determine whether they're employing true artists or not. No, seriously, I'm not kidding. Try that next year and see what quality of artists turn up. And of course, how can one forget the chats? Now, let's get off "Facebook" and dive into "Notebook." They are amazingly similar though. Emoticons, colors, thoughts expressed in the most myriad forms of languages...you name it, it's there on that page. Of course, you can also learn a lot about the temperament of a person through these chats - though of course, not everyone will let you read them. To be fair, they are quite personal. So, you might want to just blacken them out, when you apply for FA or Graffix next year. Finally, the ultimate perk of looking at the last page is that you have reached the "end of the book," at least on first glance. If anyone looks at you they'll wonder how you got through all that study material so quickly. You can either choose to smile smugly, or say "No, I'm quite far from finishing." Either way, people will think you're smart. So what's on your last page? -Badax 18 July 2014

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Post-modern Fried Rice!

Most people would be getting back to class yawning and stretching and happy after the holidays. I for one, was ready to do the same, if it had not been for dear old Fried RIce, the college's only talking cat. I happened to be free at 9:40, and it was then that I ran into him. He started straight off by telling me that TY was going to ruin my life forever. "Hey. I've taken subjects that I like. I think I'll be fine." I said. "Yeah right," replied Fried Rice with a snort of derision. "If anyone ended up actually doing the subjects that they liked, we'd have a rather satisfied college. I, for one, was not allowed to do Chinese, because I was told that they didn't have it as an option. And Father Arun is another classic example. He's done his undergrad in chemistry. He even has a mustache to prove it." "What does Father Arun's mustache have to do with anything?" I asked, genuinely bewildered. "It's obviously the only proof that he was a chemistry student," said Fried RIce, with an annoying know-it-all air. "He wouldn't wear it with such pride if he wasn't. Have you noticed how the rest of his face is clean-shaven? That mustache is his medal of honour which he got from an acid blast that burned off all the hair on his face except his mustache," he concluded. I sat there wondering how to respond to this, when Fried Rice went on. "Also, it's not just about your subjects. Half your professors are retiring! Now tell me life isn't going to suck in TY." "Not necessarily, You don't know the new professors. They might be even better," I countered. "You're certainly entitled to that opinion," remarked Fried Rice with a cool calmness that I had never observed before. A thought suddenly struck me. "Are you employing post-modernism against me?" I said. "If you say so," said Fried Rice ambiguously. "That would explain the Father Arun reference," I said. "What about your whole Communist philosophy?" I asked, hoping to heaven he had gotten rid of it. "Oh that's there to stay," said Fried Rice with the air of a connoisseur sampling a delicate wine. "Anyway, there's some things nature can't change, like the fact that you are going to kill yourself at the end of TY." "If you go on like this, I'm not the only one who's going to be killed at the end of TY," I threatened, rather irritated by this new-fangled postmodern angle of Fried Rice. "You wouldn't dare!" shot Fried Rice. "I'll tell the person on the Confessions page who loves me that you attempted to kill me." Thankfully, the bell rang, and I fled from the foyer. When I glimpsed him among the benches later, he was snoring peacefully below the shade of a table, no doubt dreaming of the days to come, where he could happily end every debate he had with me with the words, "Post-modernism!" -Badax 30 June 2014

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The End (?)

And finally, the semester and the academic draws to a close. And with it comes the realisation that there's only a year left to go. A year. Three hundred and sixty five days. That fact is definitely reinforced when you see your favourite seniors hugging each other (and you) and realise that you won't be seeing them again in the foyer! Sad much?

Chill. This isn't the end. As people sometimes say to comfort the nostalgia, "This is a new beginning." Well, for us SYs it certainly is! We're going to see a lot of changes in the next year. Friends will be in separate classes according to majors. Free lectures will be plentiful (with the exception of a few particular departments and professors), new professors will be coming in, new friends will be made. 

There's certainly going to be a lot of active writing from me. Guaranteed. I've already decided that when I graduate, this will be the thing that I miss the most. Apart from the innumerable friendships I've managed to form, and will form, and Fried Rice the cat, and my friend the spy at the chaat counter. 

With that rather standard introduction, I think we should get down to a non-standard reflection. A reflection of the days ahead, which will be non-studying, non-CIA-filled, non-sleepless, non-being-crushed-into-a-train, non-busy and generally chilled out. Well, isn't that what summer is all about! Unless of course you're going for an internship. Now that's another story, which I will some day tell.

As for this last day, I'm pretty sure most people have gone off celebrating in a certain place described most aptly by the non-technical term for solar radiation. Divided by departments, united by....

For those who haven't, they'll have gone home and slept. Am I right?

Happy holidays!

-Badax

29 March 2014

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Resumés ("About Me")

As many of you must have noticed, I have not been writing much lately. This is because my time has been taken up by writing out tedious resumés and filling various forms in my hope of getting an admission into a foreign college after I leave Xaviers. This has not been an easy task. Here's how it usually goes, and my deepest most intimate feelings about these resumés...

Some people wonder what the most painful thing in the world is. Generally, people answer “A visit to the dentist.” Statistically, being burned alive and childbirth are the two most painful things in this world (measured by who and by what means, I do not know). But if you asked me at this point, I’d say it would be writing about myself.

Yes that’s write right. Writing about myself. Though most people know me as a good writer, no one knows me as a good writer “about myself”. Frankly, nor do I. And I’d like to keep it that way; if it weren’t for the universities I am attempting to apply to. “Write about yourself”, they say directly and indirectly, sometimes more than once. Can they even begin to realize the torture they are inflicting on some poor, hapless individual who’s just trying to learn something to get ahead in life?

Well, anyway, here I go. I’m reminded about the “About Me” feature on Facebook and how a portrait of oneself is depicted mostly through single words and emoticons. “:D”, “:P” and “I’M ME!!” - the most common “About Me’s” on the reputed social networking website. My inner urge tells me to do the same on these application forms, but my outer urge refuses.

I slowly start writing and after what seems like an age manage to finish a sentence. “I am a nineteen year old boy studying in Mumbai, India.” That should help a lot, especially in determining my gender, age, professional life status and geographical location. I’ve heard that these colleges are very fussy about these things, especially where you hail from. I’m glad it wasn’t on another planet, or my location might extend to “Mumbai, Maharashtra, India, Asia, Earth, Solar System No. 1, Milky Way Branch 5, Local Group, Local Supercluster etc. etc.”

After the flowery “About Me” comes the next dreaded issue: “Why this university”. I’d honestly love to see the words “Flatter me publicly” replacing this section on the form. Why this university? “BECAUSE I NEED A JOB IN LIFE!!! Understand that, Herr Principal/Director!” Blast. I can’t write that either. My hope for the future involves headlines stating, “Universities revamp application forms to help young intellectuals speak their own minds.” Yes, major revamp needed in that area! But if that happens, the universities might just ask us to write more and more about ourselves and justify it by saying that they are “learning more about the individual’s mind through his own words.” Oh, the irony!

-Badax

4 March 2014

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Cross Faculty Courses

The one course in the new semester that almost everyone seems to be raving about is the cross faculty course, no matter what the subject is. Here are some of the reactions, listed course wise:

1) Zoology: The Secret Lives of Animals. We all made fun of the name when we heard about it. But my friends who've taken it describe it as the best decision that they've ever taken. In fact, the number of applicants for Zoology were so many, that some people didn't get it, though it was their first choice.

2) Astronomy: This course is said to be extremely good too. The best part, say the people who've taken it, is that there is no really mathematics involved making it far easier than what they'd previously imagined.

3) Web designing: I've just got one reaction, that it is a decent course, not very bad to go for either.

4) Physics: The other course offered apart from Astronomy, Physics apparently has a lot a practical demonstrations coming up, which sounds like fun if you don't like the types of Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory.

5) Chemistry: Now this one has rave reviews from the girls especially, because involves the chemistry behind colors and art. Chemicals mixed to form natural and synthetic dyes, fashion colors leading to fashion clothes - every girl's dream I guess.

6) Nutrition: People say that so far, they've just been studying elements of food, and the reproductive system. Food and sex. Well, I don't know about you but that sure sound like a good deal to me!

7) Botany: Some people find it freaky to know that plants can see you, feel you, and hear you. I say this. Plants have a life. What about you?

That's all I have for now. Watch this space for more!

-Badax

14 Nov 2013

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Semester 4.02

The new semester is finally here. And with it comes the cross-faculty course, the suspense of the first semester mark sheets, the happiness or unhappiness of getting back to college, the taste of canteen food, the messing up of sleep cycles and the hugs in the foyer.

I managed to make a close study of the people in college today, and found that there were several varied reactions to the beginning of the new semester.

Firstly, most obviously, there were the people who were extremely glad to get back to college. I had an 8 o'clock lecture today, and managed to reach college at 7:50. The minute I stepped into the first quad, I heard a girl scream "OH MY GOD I'M SO GLAD TO BE BACK!!!" The screaming continued in repeated and varying degrees for a while, with different words added each time, until everyone from every floor was looking down upon her, either nodding and smiling at her innocence or glaring at her, hoping she would just shut up.

The next group of people were at the opposite extreme: they simply hated getting back to college. "Why can't vacations last forever?" was the rhetorical question of the day. Well, if they did last forever, life would be just one long holiday wouldn't it? And we'd never appreciate holidays if we didn't have hardworking days to compare them with now, would we? (Insert annoying smiley face here.)

Next came the ones who were absolutely indifferent about it. For these people, college was simply a matter of traveling on the train/bus/car, sitting in class, listening to the professor, eating in the canteen and getting back home. Nothing more. No expressions or emotions whatsoever. It was just another day for them. 

Then there were the people who had been working in college through the vacations at various events, like Antas or Ithaka. These people were not very happy to have lectures stuffed into their already limited time to complete their work. From now on, work would consist of lesser meetings, lesser quality output or extended timings, sometimes going up to insane hours in college itself. A few of them were starting to stress out already, even before the semester began.

And finally there's the cool, impartial observer, whose name is printed below, at the end of this post. 

Welcome back.

-Badax

11 November 2013

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Ending the Semester

So, after nearly half a year of mind-bogglement, surprise, joy, fear, tension, anger, happiness, frustration and pretty much every emotion in the book, the semester has finally come to an end. Here are some of the facts and thoughts on/of life from this last semester:

-Zara Hatke was pretty okay. Not dreadful, pretty okay.

-CIAs were a bit of an issue this time - right in the middle of Malhar practice, and right after Malhar itself.

-The world of Xaviers was divided into two camps when the end sems time table was out: one, who celebrated the anticipation of a really long Diwali holiday, and the other who dreaded the anticipation of a tight end sam schedule.

-Submarine. Green sauce on pasta. Chicken Cotton Blue. Quite a bit of new food at the canteen. Not bad at all.

-Moaning and groaning sounds in the exam hall, turned out to be Schezwan's kittens mewling for a meal. Of course, some people invented their own theories about the sources of the cat-noises.

-Two papers in each subject are harder than one.

-What did the fox say? 

-Psychology students grumbling to anyone who'll listen about their problems in life.

-Couples in the foyer will be in the same places after we return. If they're still together.

-Cross-faculty course forms need to be filled up. Don't do what I did and put first priority on one subject and put priority no. 9 for every other. 

-On a happier note, with reference to the above factoid, no SPC next semester. Yay.

-We're all at a loose end. Sleep, eat, drink and waste as much as you like. Nothing beats college, honestly. Blues will happen.

Well, see you next semester!

-Badax

13 October 2013

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Extra Lectures

People have been asking me why I haven't been writing lately. The answer is this: Malhar, CIAs, assignments, presentations, and above all, extra lectures.

The entire point of an extra lecture is simple: To tire you out. Though you try and reason it out by telling yourself that it's impossible to miss, because you'll never get to study otherwise, the bare truth finally comes crashing down around halfway through the lecture (if you can ever measure the half-way point). It exists to tire you out.

Why the extra lectures? Doesn't the portion make arrangements for holidays like Ganapati Visarjan, or contingencies like floods? Apparently not. It is unclear to me at this point whether it makes allowances for Sundays as well. 

The whole process of going for, sitting through and coming out of an extra lecture is truly one of a kind. First, you have to make sure you eat well, if there is time for it. If there isn't time, you have to beg the professor to donate five minutes at the beginning of the extra lecture to rush down to the canteen and grab a quick bite. Let's be fair here, if such a situation ever exists, the professors are willing to comply. After all they too are as tired as the students. But anyway. Story continues.

After the quick bite, there comes the lecture itself. You either hope like mad that it's not in the 40s where you will fall asleep at the whiff of the first breeze and the professor will yell at you for sleeping, or hope even more that it's not in the 30s where you sit in a classroom-cum-sweatbox where there is no place to sleep, secretly text or even breathe, let alone pay attention to the professor.

If you have a must-write-down-notes subject, too bad. You have a wrist-ache rivaling that of Roger Federer's after a match, by the time you get through the first half an hour of the lecture. At this point, you wonder whether the professor has a life beyond extra lectures, and get really upset when one of your friends say that they do.

You then slip into the drone of the lecture, and really forget about anything and everything - it's almost like sleeping with your eyes open - and manage to take down notes at the same time.

However, the real torture is not at the beginning. It is close to the fag end of the lecture. The usual procedure for the professors when the afternoon bell rings is to say "I'll just take ten minutes more." And here is when the true test of sanity comes into play.

You are aroused from your stupor by the bell. After the professor makes his/her declaration of another ten minutes more "only" it takes nerves of steel to stay calm and sit down in one place. Every little molecule in your body is desperately concentrating on your little wristwatch (or the one of the person next to you). You grit your teeth and wipe the sweat off your brow for the seconds hand to tick tick and tick till ten minutes strike and... Voila! It's over! You give attendance, blearily put your books and stationary back in your bag and limp exhaustedly out of the classroom.

Of course there's no time to write daily. That's just inhuman.

-Badax

23 September 2013

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Letters of Recommendation

Dear Xavierites,

For the final Saturday of this month, here are my Letters (with a capital L) of recommendation for you all, in and around Xaviers:

H: Hugs. Really in excess all around Xaviers, if you don’t believe me, just take one look at the foyer at 10:30, or after college.

I: Intoxicated. Sunlight, anyone? (shh)

J: Just another day. Isn’t that how we feel after a long day of lectures and nothing else?

K: Kachoris. I saw a couple of them on sale at the chaat counter. Go check it out.

L: LR 28. Does it really exist?

M: Malhar! Once again, the big thing going around campus now! Watch this space for more news.

N: News. Anything that happens. That’s what I’m hungry for.

7 Letters each week! Watch this space for more!

-Badax

29 June 2013

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A Few Words on Being Unwell

Train

Crowded

Hot

Sticky

Headache

Sweat

Nausea

Arrive

Station

Claustrophobia

Walk

Weak

Gasp

Gate

ID card

Stairs

Climb

Out of breath

Wheeze

Bell

Panic

Lecture

Attendance

Present

Stoned

Sleep

Professor yells

Headache

Foyer

Humid

Terry

Sleep

I am not well.

-Badax

24 June 2013

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Letters of Recommendation

Dear Xavierites,

For another Saturday, here are my Letters (with a capital L) of recommendation for you all, in and around Xaviers:

A: Analysis. That’s what all BA students are mainly doing in all their subjects.

B: Benches. They’ve been a tad rearranged in the foyer, if you’ve noticed. 

C: Cutting chai. Nothing like Anna’s chai during the pouring rains!

D: Delays. That’s what everyone faces right now, with train, bus and other transport schedules going out of whack. It’s also why the professors allow us in late.

E: Easy-going. Lectures, you have to admit, are easier right now. Wait and watch!

F: Floods. After a downpour, look at the Woods and the foyer and you’ll know what I mean.

G: Granite. The first floor corridor floor has got a makeover. Some new, very dusty-looking granite has been put in there.

7 Letters each week! Watch this space for more!

-Badax

22 June 2013

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Leave Early, Please! (AKA, Elections to the Economics Circle)

Something rather interesting, and amazing happened today, in the last Economics lecture at 12:10. Something that I think will make the students look up to the professor for the rest of their lives and praise him.

It all started when two senior students walked into class and declared that they were going to hold the elections for the class representatives for the Economics Circle right there and then. Four of our classmates decided to stand for election.

One by one, each of them came up to the front of the class, and gave a one-minute speech on how they would benefit the class most if they were elected to the Circle. You could see the tension in their faces as they spoke: their fate was in our hands. I felt a but like a young Lex Luthor as the senior student came around handing us ballot papers.

The speeches took about five minutes, after which, we were asked to write down any two candidate's names on the papers to cast our vote. For a while, there was no sound at all, as we wrote on our small little slips of paper, deciding someone's fate for them. 

After about ten minutes, the senior representative came around collecting the slips. To my surprise, they wrote the names of the candidates on the blackboard and started counting the votes then and there itself. They counted them swiftly, working through the huge pile of ballot slips in just over twenty minutes. 

After the results were declared, the newly-elected representatives came up and thanked us all. The professor at the front of the class looked at his watch, and we all settled down for another rather dull lecture. But to our surprise he said "Let's leave now."

We were all pleasantly surprised. There was still half an hour for the lecture to end. But before he could say anything else, we jumped up and fled from the classroom.

I later found out, that the professor had let us go, because he thought that he had a class with us the next day. Turns out, he didn't. But it was too late by then. Though he did achieve some popularity through his stunt.

-Badax

21 June 2013

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Submarine Test

When I went downstairs today after lectures at 12:10, I noticed a huge crowd near the pastry counter. I wondered whose birthday it was, and who was getting a cake, so I went near them.

One of my friends was part of the crowd. I waved to her to get her attention and asked her, "What's going on? Rush hour?" 

"There's a new item on the menu. It's called a Submarine" she replied excitedly.

"A submarine? What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, puzzled.

"None of us know what it is. They've had it listed on the menu for a long time now, but never actually given it to us, so we're all waiting to find out what it is" replied my friend, being jostled through the dense crowd.

I was rather intrigued. Here was an entirely new item on the menu, and none of us knew what it was. I reasoned to try a bit from my friend when she got it. 

I sat down in an empty chair not too far from the crowd, and began to wonder what this strange dish could be. My first immediate thought was some kind of large special dessert, maybe shaped like a submarine. But that was a little too eccentric, even for Xaviers, so I dismissed the idea from my mind.

Next up in line in my mind was something that had an 'underwater' theme, maybe a Coke or Sprite float with blue food colouring in it, and a delicious ice-cream scoop floating on it. That seemed like a possibility, since blue juice was already available at the juice counter, and ice-cream was also available. But somehow, I didn't manage to reason out why they should serve it at the pastry counter and not the juice counter. 

By and by, my mind drifted to other thoughts, such as psychology assignments, the rain, Terry's office and many such things. I also began to wonder about my journey back home, and whether I should risk being killed on the Metro crossing or just take the subway, which would involve a lot of climbing, but it'd be safer. Subway! That's it! My mind jumped back to the canteen. This 'Submarine' thing was definitely a sub sandwich! I resolved to order one as soon as the crowd thinned out.

My friend then returned, confirming my theory. The Submarine was indeed a six-inch sub sandwich, freshly prepared behind the counter. I asked her how it was.

"It's absolutely delicious. The chicken is so tender" she replied.

Wait a minute. Chicken?!

"Isn't there a vegetarian option?" I asked ruefully. "No, only chicken" she replied.

Damn, I thought. That's ridiculous. I told my friend, "That's so discriminatory. It's like going against vegetarianism and all the traditions that preach it."

She laughed. "Chill out, dude. Have some chicken once in a while. It'll do you good."

Yeah right, like that was happening. I stomped off in a bad mood. But that battle was not over yet. I resolved to fight for change. A vegetarian submarine was absolutely necessary. And why the name 'Submarine' anyway?! How unprofessional.

-Badax

20 June 2013

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Floody College!

With all the cats, dogs and elephants pouring down from the sky in Mumbai, it's no wonder that Xaviers gets a soaking too. After a cloudburst, it's quite a sight to see the Woods, especially, completely flooded, with students having to wade ankle-deep through the water to get from class to class.

During a cloudburst, the safest place to be is either a classroom, or the middle of the foyer. Most people prefer the foyer, as there are many more people to hang out with, and you can get food at your disposal. I was among them today. As I sat at one of the tables, rain pouring down steadily from the skies above, I watched as the level of water began to rise at a gradual rate, especially near the Woods.

Schezwan and Fried Rice were in the safety of the canteen. I spotted them there, and looked completely the other way to avoid Fried Rice. The water level had risen to just that annoying level, where it neither covers your entire foot, nor does it leave your feet dry and simply gets into one's socks and shoes, making everything squelchy and damp.

Looking near the volleyball court, I noticed that it now resembled a very mucky, unprofessional swimming pool. Resisting the urge to go and jump or paddle in the water, i looked skywards to a dull, grey color with the spray from the rain drenching my face. True bliss for a moment.

Then I looked down again, and saw that the water level was now ankle-deep. It was running from the Woods down into the foyer corridor, near the entrance to the staircase. It would find its own way to the drains, but the Woods were a complete flood.

At long last, when the rain let up for a bit, the waters drained out, and I was able to step out to the first quadrangle. The college looked freshly washed, and cleaner than ever before: well, that's the magic of heavy rains!

-Badax

18 June 2013

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Fried Rice's Holidays

I'm pretty sure everyone has had their own unique stories and experiences about the summer break. There is one, however, that stands out clearly in my mind. This story is of course, from none other than dear old Fried Rice, the college's only talking cat.

I ran into (or rather, nearly tripped over) him today at 10:30, during the break. He immediately started off on how he had tried to smuggle himself on board at least three Air China flights to Shanghai, Beijing and Wuhan, first in the cabin - which ended up in a lot of screaming from the passengers - then in the cockpit - which resulted in a lot of screaming from the crew - and finally, in the hold - which resulted in a restraining order placed upon him from the airport authorities. 

"You know, you shouldn't have tried to get into the airport without a ticket." I reprimanded him. 

"If Ajmal Kasab can get into Mumbai without a ticket, so can I" he retorted back. 

"That's different." I replied. "They came by sea. Air travel is much more stringent on security." "Stringent, my paw!" snorted Fried Rice. "If it were that stringent, I wouldn't have succeeded in getting on the plane three times. It was only when I tried to strike up a conversation with the passengers and crew that I got thrown out." 

"Not everyone is used to your nonsense." I said. "Sometimes even I wonder how I can tolerate it." 

"These guys were Chinese, alright? They should have understood my plight: a poor Chinese cat trapped in a huge stone building in the heart of India" sniffed Fried Rice gloomily. 

"You make Xaviers sound like a jail." I said. "And once again, I have to remind you that both you and your ancestors were born and brought up here. There is not a drop of Chinese blood in any part of your puny little anatomy."

"I know Chinese very well. The passengers and crew taught me some, look! 'Bǎ nà māo líkāi zhèlǐ! Zhè māo bìxū shì kǒngbù fèn zi de!'" said Fried Rice, leaving me completely confused for a couple of seconds.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked. "I have no idea, try Google Translate." said Fried Rice. 

"You don't even know what those things mean. How can you be Chinese?" I said. "Let's not go through all that again" said Fried Rice tiredly. "I tried to tell the people loading the luggage the same thing, but they were going on about some rules that I have to be in a cage, and some other nonsense."

"You should be thankful for that. Flying in the hold is a harrowing experience." I said. "Flying itself is harrowing." said Fried Rice with a shudder. "Cats were never meant to fly. Next time, I'll take the train to Arunachal, and just slip across the disputed territory."

"And how exactly are you going to get yourself on the right train? You don't even know the timings!" I said. "I'm a Communist. If I have the spirit, I will keep fighting." replied Fried Rice, in an attempt to outsmart me with one of his pointless philosophies.

Thankfully, the bell rang just then, and I got up to go. Fried Rice, as usual, sat on the table and started munching on a chicken frankie someone had left behind.

I found out later, that the two sentences of Chinese that Fried Rice had supposedly learnt from the aircraft were "Get this cat out of here!" and "This cat must be a terrorist!" 

-Badax

14 June 2013

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Monsoons at Xaviers

The monsoon season has finally come to Xaviers in a full and drenching manner. For those yearning for the cool showers to sweep Mumbai, here is your time to celebrate. For those who long for clear sunny skies with crisp breezes sweeping their way through the campus, mourn away until October.

The monsoon means so much to us Xavierites, although we sometimes fail to notice its significance. It is only in the rains that we truly savor the flavor of anything hot and salty, like Anna's Every-Flavor Maggi or the immortal Spring Dosa. You just don't get that flavor anytime else of the year. Sitting in a cool, moist atmosphere in the foyer, munching away on hot food: ah, now that's heaven away from heaven!

The monsoon also heralds the arrival of freshers. People usually say, "The rain sweeps away the old, dried heat of the summers and replaces it with a new, verdant and cooling spray." For Xavierites, it could be interpreted as, "The rain sweeps away the old, been-there-done-that TYs and replaces them with a batch of new, eager FYs." Yes, that's much better.

And who can forget Marine Drive? I'm sure most of us have been there to spy on couples and feel the surging sea-breeze and have huge waves drench us in seawater from head to toe. That's something to look forward to.

Of course we have our usual slippery passageways and staircases where anyone falls at the drop of a hat (literally!) and the Woods, where phone signal is the strongest, are practically cut off during the rains to people who do not wish to get electrocuted through the head or have their phone die on them. But that's all part of the charm, and there's network near the juice counter too! 

Yes, the monsoon is brilliant.

-Badax

13 June 2013

[badax-blog]

Why Purple?

A question on everyone's mind is this: why are the ID cards purple this year? The majority of the students have expressed a hearty dislike for this year's design, but the question still stands: why purple? I decided to take the issue up with my friend who operates the chaat counter for two hours a day and is actually a spy at the CBI.

I had a free lecture today, so I took a chance and went to the chaat counter. He was busy preparing the paani for paani-puri, and as usual did not show any recognition towards me, as his training forbade it. I leant towards him and said, "What's up? Any interesting new cases over the vacations?" "There's never a vacation for me" he answered. "During your summer break, I have a part-time job with the Bombay Veterinary College, as a senior office member, they never give holidays to the students too. And yes, during that time I had to spy on cricketeers to see if they were meeting with bookies to fix IPL matches. The resultant arrests were all my handiwork" he concluded with a hint of a smirk.

"Wow, that's great!" I exclaimed. "You should be promoted soon." "Well, let's see" replied the spy. "Hopefully I'll be able to move to the general office instead of manning the chaat counter this year." 

"Then you can answer the question that's been playing on everyone's minds easily" I said. "Why are the ID cards purple this year?"

"It's actually for security reasons" said the spy in a low voice. "I'm sure you read about the recent Maoist attacks." 

"Yes. I did, but what has that got to do with our ID cards?" I asked, puzzled. "A lot has to do with it" said the spy. "Last year's ID cards were red, if you remember. The CBI has now asked the college authorities to remove all traces of bright red color from the ID cards, as students may look at them and be influenced to join the Maoist movement. Though that usually happens anyway..." the spy sighed.

"Okay, so no red. Why not green or yellow or something?" I asked. "What, you want to go around looking like a traffic signal each year?" snorted the spy. "And what about the color-blind students? If we put green in the IDs, they'll see red colors and the whole Maoist problem will resurface."

"So why the decision on purple?" I questioned him further. "Well, we initially wanted pink, but the education board said that the pink color would sexually arouse the boys, just like when girls wear pink dresses. So we decided to strike off pink, and just darkened it down to a shade of purple" replied the spy.

"That's very good thinking" I said. "Yes, by banning short clothes in college, and now pink color in the IDs, we'll soon have a rape-free generation" said the spy.

"So who took the final decision on purple?" I asked, but just then the bell rang, and I had to go for class. As I walked away, I looked behind, and saw the spy wiping his hands on his purple handkerchief, and punching up a song by Deep Purple on his phone.

-Badax

12 June 2013