I am supposed to be a melancholic rocker who sits on the high citadel of intellectual disposition and talks forth on the truths of life. Listening to Springsteen crooning late at night, as a wonderful send off, when I take stock of the day gone by, I am supposed to be exquisitely loquacious and inspire awe among the prospective readers and regular (??) visitors.
Alas for the boulevard of broken dreams. It’s no more intellectual than half-witted and no more than excitingly pedantic. So, I would rather use the time and space to write about the abso-rocking-lutely party that our seniors gave us on Friday night.
But… first a word about the amazing society formed at the campus; everybody is afraid of us & secretly everybody wants to be in one of our public bulletins. We have sting cams, pics & videos. We are atrocious, totally amoral and have no sensitivity… We are your everyday super secret, accessible, friendly neighborhood society: Stingsoc.
Emboldened after the success of the very first sting-op done on the stung analyst (see archives) we exploded into action within hours of the story going public. All of a sudden, we started having people coming up to us from all walks of the class to tell us about the latest scoop they have on some he/she/it. It was amazing to see the apparent ease with which we managed to fit into this malicious role. To our immense credit (backslaps all the team), we now have insider info to clog the campus info network for hours on end.
I would like to end on this rather tantalizing start. The stories would be made public in a while. This entry is supposed to be about da party dudes!!
Ok! It’s the scene of the party. The vodka is flowing like a dam broke somewhere. People are dancing, drinking, snogging (??) and causing mayhem, in general. Stingsoc sees the opportunity and swings into action.
We start off with the Stingsoc Prez, yours truly. We find him bunched up in a corner nursing his subconscious desire to drink and the psychological barrier that prevents it. It’s funny because the situation quickly deteriorates, where he starts thinking like Asimov’s robots; in terms of Robotic laws. On one hand, he has the desire to out-drink everybody at the party; be the last man standing. Recalling the glory days of college; drinking like fishes at the room parties and making everybody slump are still fresh in his mind. On the other, he knows that he will puke the moment alcohol goes below his throat. The situation is finally resolved, when the desire to remain teetotaler becomes stronger than the potential to drink. Asimov’s law resolved, our dude heads back to the party, neat.
Next up, we find “Thunderwear” having a ball with the BongQueens. The love-starved Akky baby is boogeying alongside. No comments would be written or solicited for what was happening there. <wicked winking>
A more happening dude is the pra-prez, who has no clues as to which planet he is on. He lesser said about his dance, the better it would be. Rest assured, the fastest Indian is out to take some revenge. A quick word here for his namesake in the seniors, who was an absolutely smashing guy to have a ball with in the party.
Next up, we find a bunch of euphoric guys led by khandelia & Sandeep “Wonderwall”. Never saw a bunch of guys so plastered, who were dancing their guts out. Like these two; seemed as if they had the guitar in their hands. Awesome enthu. Special thanks to both for dunking me with beer, vodka & Pepsi, in that order. You rock, guys! However, an attempt by khandelia to sabotage my shirt was quickly averted when I ran away from the point of action.
Aha! Whom do we see next? The girl nicked as Mandy is two-stepping with Divay. <howls in rage & pain> dude’s a good dancer, btw. Anyway, lot of heartburn around that area, and some interested folks rush in quickly to rescue their collective fair maiden. Guy beats a hasty retreat.
Can any party be complete without the sleazy, scandalous bits? Of course not! The loving embraces and fictional mistletoes are the life and line of the party. Partly the reason why dudes turn up to parties like these as hopefuls. Anyway, I do not have the complete list of people who got lucky, but I do have some sneaky tid-bits.
First up, the girl whom they refer to as Scarlet O’Hara has turned up with her mate and a loving embrace ensues. Rest is up to individual imagination, although I bet most of people won’t be wrong in their thinking.
Next up, we find a certain senior guy, who incidentally is alleged to have broken the big mirror, siding up to a poor junior girl, putting his arm around her and trying to talk to her neck. Some Samaritans however launch a rescue mission and a glorious opportunity for mouth-to-neck communication is lost.
No party is complete without the discovery of a latent hidden talent. A certain girl of our class is supposed to be the most “erotic” dancer ever on a dance floor. There were reports of skin-show, but what I haven’t seen is what I won’t confirm. Mind you, this comes not just from two-three odd guys but is a universal consensus amongst at least 15 odd guys. Next party, this hot dancer would have to take up a lotta heat. Loads of guys have signed up to be her next dance partners <sigh> the price of being famous.
If anyone is wondering about our fav whipping boy, the analyst, this is the time for it. After a stinging time at the SOP box, the poor guy is looking for some love and solace. However, the object of his dreams isn’t replying to his poorly coordinated attempts at coherent talk. He even manages to use the influence of the sting prez. However, his drenched shirt & trousers aren’t exactly inspiring confidence, to say the least. Both of them are brusquely shown the door. He sulks away to another part of the room looking for greener pastures which have already been grazed upon. Poor analyst.
The fun part of a free booze party also lies in counting the dead. At the last count, there are reports of 17 people succumbing to the allures of liquor. Infact, one of the guys had to be rescued late at night because he had to be made presentable enough to let him enter home.
Party ended around midnight with people swaying to the strains of “sweet child o’mine”. There were some good sports like the fastest couple, the highest & the shortest couple, Akky & Jappy, tanu & kanu, probable crappie Puru, alongwith others who were nice enough to let me click some pics. <thumbs up>
This would be all for now. We did really have a wonderful time and I would love to thank my seniors. Inspite of the smoke and the heat, you guys did an awesome job. If anyone is reading this, rest assured, a return party follows.
A glooming hangover this morning with it brings;
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:
Go hence, to have more talk of these drunk things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
For never was a story of more substance
Than this of FMS and her students.
A thousand pardons to Shakespeare for the pidgin hatchet job on the immortal lines of Romeo & Juliet. 
