BENNET T, COLE MAN & CO. LTD. | ESTA BLISHED 1838 CHENNAI | DECEMBER 2014 | PAGES 4

TIMESOFINDIA.COM | SAARANG SPECIAL | EPAPER.TIMESOFINDIA.COM

Note from the editor:

Dear world-weary senior, freshies and other angst-ridden college types,

It’s that time of the semester again! Yes, I’m talking about end semesters and term papers and the constant worry that the whole world is definitely on to a sleep-defying and Internet-resistant cycle of mugging, and you’re the only person aimlessly trawling Facebook and watching the Interstellar trailer. (By the way, haha Mood I.)

As some of you might be aware, the Saarang newsletter is an extravagant exercise in what is commonly called whining, but this year we’ve decided to throw in some good old-fashioned publicity as well, because I understand that there are still some impressionable people out there who haven’t lost interest/belief in the coolness of college fests. Since Facebook is full of angry so-cial-cause rants, or Candy Crush requests, or sel-fies of your suddenly glamorous school friends, or snooty Quiz Club people, we figured a print edition might work better - so for the first time ever, we have a pre-Saarang NL, and to top it all, a strategist (me. I.) to supervise (lol) its content and coordinators.

To all the freshies who might not know how the machinery of Saarang works, here’s some general information:

A core is that guy/girl who walks about with an enormous badge and an inflated sense of respon-sibility. A coord is a less important personage with a smaller badge, but swaggers around gen-erally with equal, if not more, pomp. Each coord is usually labouring under the belief that his/her Department holds the rest of Saarang together, and refer to each other in polite society using a

certain brand of profanity which might scandal-ize the average outsider, but we assure you are almost terms of endearment in context. Usually. Coordinators get food coupons, and cores get more food coupons. So you know whom to hang out with in January.

Working as a coordinator is usually fun. I joined last year as an NL coordinator, but also occasion-ally doubled as a creative. Being a creative is, um, challenging. Every creative’s worst nightmare is being assigned a Thread. One has to cudgel one’s brain to pulp until you come up with a half-de-cent idea that is worth putting up on the thread, after which the other coords either like it (this is rare, because creatives take pride in being very superior and opinionated. Very opinionated. We still have day-long battles to pick a place to eat dinner) or mercilessly skewer an idea you thought pretty good, or ignore it entirely. Here the ideal re-action is to announce your utter and total disillu-sionment with the establishment, until some oth-er thread starts and we’re distracted. . Ideation. I now loathe that word with a passionate violence.Saarang is the result of the efforts of about twelve departments which are entirely run by students with various ambitions- insti fame, free pro-show tickets, CV points, food coupons, genuine en-thusiasm etc. They ensure that the fest happens without too many glitches. During Saarang, most coordinators usually run around with harassed expressions, hunger (which will be compensat-ed only in the evening, when they are rendered amiable by very generous food coupons), dying cellphones, and almost no sleep. All this has convinced me that if nothing, I can earn a living as a gossip columnist. See you next year :)

-Liza.

From the Desk...

Liza is a third year HS student who spends most of her time trying to battle the (armchair) existential blues like any English major worth her salt. She signed up as NL strategist with the questionable motives of the typi-cal third year, which stem from a be-lief that insti is your oyster and your total and complete superiority.

LIZA

Subject was rumored to have been in hiding in the first year. Upon the discovery of her excep-tional writing skills, she can now be found typing furiously in her natural habitat, the DKC when she isn’t walking to Guru to get burgers. Poring over the Econo-mist has given this stud MUNner the ability to wax eloquent on the various qualities of Hassan Rou-hani, Ayatollah Khomeini and Benjamin Netanyahu.

KALYANI

An ardent believer in the philoso-phies of Asterix, the only thing he fears is the sky falling on his head. A man of frugal wealth and quirky tastes, he may be wanted by many for economic misunderstandings.

ANANTH

SABA

THAMBIA coveting superhero, desiring to become “Batverine” with super rich asssets and badass claws, an ardent aficionado of house envy, MT is an ebullant participant in every advent possible under the sky. Known for his agility, he has devoured the encyclopedia. He is an en-ticed footy and an exuberant techie who inhabits the world of automation.

About Prof. Dash

Prof. Dash teaches economics at the Department of Humanities and So-cial Sciences, and is also currently the warden of Tamaraparani Hostel. His involvement with the cultural adviso-ry board began two years back, when he became a part of the organizing committee, in the role of the faculty in-charge of the finance and sponsor-ship departments of Saarang 2013 and 2014. The organizing committee of the cul-

tural advisory board will include all the deans and the Director. Apart from them, the board nominates faculty heads for various departments in Saa-rang.

What are your plans as the new advisor, and specifically for Saarang?

Prof. Dash feels, from his experience of the last two years, that student partic-ipation in cultural activities on-cam-pus, has reduced. “Some of the clubs are now dormant”, he says, referring to LitSoc clubs in insti. The objective of the board this year is to reorganize clubs, and help also in the organization of Saarang. “All activities in Saarang are student-run and we don’t plan to dictate anything to them”, but he says that the board does want to motivate and encourage students to participate in workshops and other activities to which they plan to invite people of re-pute, to hold lectures and demonstra-tion, and to “sensitise students about club activities, and motivate them to participate in them”.

“As far as branding is concerned in (with respect to Saarang), we have es-tablished ourselves as a flagship pro-gramme, but we can do better to im-prove its quality and performance, and involvement of the students”, he says.

Saarang is not a commercial venture, but a platform he believes is meant for our students. And they should get an opportunity to showcase their talent where they belong. As the advisor, he believes his job is to facilitate the pro-cess of LitSoc and Saarang, and to give guidance where necessary, encourage new activities, and show what’s good and bad in any decision made with respect to LitSoc and Saarang. He says that “We are part of the system and must work within the system- we need to know the expectation of the insti-tute from Saarang, and work toward it, instead of counter to it. The cultural advisor aligns expectations of the stu-dents with those of the Institute, and keeps the system floating, so to speak.

Apart from participation in club/Saarang activities, there has been a marked fall in coordinator applications also. Why do you think student participation has de-creased?

Prof. Dash says that unless the students are ‘groomed’ in the club through ac-tivities, they will feel intimidated and consequently shy away from participa-tion and taking up responsibilities as coordinators. We must infuse enthu-siasm in freshers through clubs, and foster a strong LitSoc culture among students, and especially among the first and second years. This is a cru-cial period in a typical insti student’s life, where they decide what they want to do. Encouraging them to be a con-

stant part of LitSoc will automatically generate enthusiasm for the campus’s cultural fest also. Prof. Dash also feels that even senior students- PG and Phd students- must be encouraged to par-ticipate. Saarang is run by undergrad students, and likewise the participant pool is also drawn from them. We must involve PG section of the population in the decision-making and participation of Saarang.

What do you think of the extra-curricular activities that take place at IITM? Where do you wish to see it going from here? How do you think we can make it better through Saarang and Lit Soc?

In comparison with other colleges, IITM has fared better in terms of en-couragement given to hosting cultural fests and events on campus. However, despite a supportive administration, there hasn’t been student participation proportional to their 8000-strong pop-ulation on campus. Prof. Dash says that although we do not lack the time and resources, there hasn’t been an effort to facilitate an ex-pansion of facilities available to clubs, in terms of space etc. This year, an ex-pansion has been planned, and clubs should have designated places for meetings and other events soon. Club activities, he assures us, will be free and open to everybody, to encourage optimum attendance. Four/five years is long enough to learn something

new/ something we’ve always felt like learning, be it music or dance or art.

Why do you think cultural appreciation is important for the youth, especially those in a primarily tech institute?Social and civic values, the develop-ments of which are necessary in stu-dents, cannot be taught through any formal course- they need to be learned through practice. These cultural ac-tivities and LitSoc will “ensure expres-sion of potential talent- music, drama, speaking etc”.The objective of these bodies “is to provide a platform to excel at whatever capacity they have”, and also to “shape our value systems”. Prof. Dash points out that learning group dynamism, a sense of cooperation, leadership, de-cision making, taking initiative and making judgements, taking responsi-bilities for action etc are all fostered by learning through peers, and not a for-mal tutor. These are basic professional skills that need to be honed, and can-not come to us through other sources. He feels that empathy, sympathy, and even the desire to show off one’s tal-ents, are very ‘human instincts’, and Saarang and LitSoc provide an arena to foster these in a healthy manner, both through competitive events, and through working as coordinators at the fest. Appreciation of art and culture “helps to change the lens with which you see the world, and to deal with the world”, he says.

-Liza

Coffee with Prof.Dash

Schedule for SAARANG Proshows 2015 -page 3

World Cultural Shows are bigger and better

this SAARANG -page 3

The NL “strategist”

her minions

Our very talented cartoonist

Saba is a great cartoonist who can produce cute, funky, cool and funny drawings at lightning speed. When she’s not drawing or being the life of the party, you can find her either propounding the importance of sleep to man-kind or curled up asleep on her bed.

our patient design coord

Saarang 2015 Organising Team

CMYK

SAARANG SPECIALTHE TIMES OF INDIA, CHENNAI 02

A (mostly harmless) guide to insti speak/ A comprehensive guide to political incor-rectness

Please note that this is a mostly descriptive ac-count, and instances of the author evincing her personal views are few, and must be read as opinions she is allowed to have, in her capacity as an independent human mind. Not that ani-mals can’t think. They can. I totally didn’t mean to offend animals.

An integral rite of initiation into the ranks of true IITians involves the acquisition of a highly unique vocabulary, commonly referred to as in-sti lingo. Over time, insti lingo evolved into our own leetspeak and established its final stamp to fame by becoming the subject of an entire the-sis. Insti lingo has few detractors, and though it might overwhelm and sometimes offend the purists among new entrants to the campus, even-tually everyone succumbs to the wonderful com-municative potential it offers (except the MS word dictionary, which will continue to fight this with a passion).

Insti lingo seems to be almost as old as the cam-pus itself, and certainly most of the terms we use now have been in circulation even in the 90s. Some have stayed, while others have retained their effec-tiveness over time.

Here’s a brief guide-Random acronyms and abbreviations. These

sound like a string of meaningless letters to any stranger. And we would come under fire if we use the expansion. Gajendra Circle anyone?

I don’t think so. This category includes OAT, SAC, LSG, CLT, WM,

LM GC, CCW, QMS, FR, SGS, HAS,IRCTC, T5E, GD, HSB, CRC, BC, and DC.

The average IITian is also very fond of using

profanity of every sort, ranging from the harmless f-word, to more unseemly ones, which are almost terms of endearment connotatively. These also mostly happen to be Hindi words like c#*, s@#$, b*#$@ etc. I’m sure you can fill in the gaps/will soon be able to.

God and stud are nouns of great normative im-port and have nothing to do with religion or horses. Refer to people who are awesome at something.

Baskie, baddie and footer are sports terms. Yes, I think they’re weird too. Moving on.

Terms used to refer to regional and racial back-grounds- Gult, Tam, Mallu, Dig, Chinki, Firang and Northie are oft-used and are not of complimentary value. Put- possible the most ubiquitous of all of them and is a multipurpose word. To put can be used everywhere-put peace (which means chill out/relax) put enthu, put fight (used for lit soc and ex-ams and waking up) put CLT, put link etc. You get the drift. Pseud means cool or worthy of emula-

tion. And pack means to chuck/discard/cancel. For example, to quote a current soc sec, “pack lit soc”. Level means a standard. That level is a term of comparison. Pack-level means of bad quality. Like the food in the mess. Lite means simple/easy. Take lite means to take stuff less seriously. A night-out means you stayed up all night/got very little sleep. Can lead to hair loss and/or excessive consumption of Maggi (which is so nice. But it doesn’t have Real Vegetables in it guys. That’s an urban myth) from Ramu’s Tea Stall, and is unadvisable. To app means to apply to universities abroad. An app can also refer to an application to take on a POR (a Position of Responsibility) to be a core, coord or a strategist (a vague term. Sounds a lot cooler than the work involved). A mugpot is someone who mugs (studies hard) and threatens to lower your grade

in relation to his/hers, and is therefore performing an act of RG (relative grading).

Sly/sli means.... I don’t know what sli means. Can be used anywhere. For example,Scene post-quizA- How was the paper?B- Sli da (meaning “I’m so getting an S”)C- Sli da (meaning “I hope I manage a B. Sleep sleep sleep”) D- Sli da (meaning “In the Grand Scheme of Things, this small quiz is nothing. Nothing”)

Insti lingo is like Chennai’s weather. You can love it (as some people claim to) or hate it, but you cannot ignore it- it’s here to stay.

So long and thanks for all the fish,-Liza

A guide to insti speak/ A comprehensive guide to political incorrectness

W hile most bands at Saarang, metal or otherwise, have the usual names implying hormone-fuelled rebel-

liousness, deviance and/or the deeper con-cepts of God, Space and Time, some bands have names that are to say the least, inter-esting. Let’s take a look at some of the quirk-iest names to have performed at Saarang:

1)Clown with a Frown – This colourful-ly dressed pop-rock band from Bangalore has an ironic name that scarily connotes, for some, a certain creep from the Batman comics or the demon in Stephen King’s nov-el, ‘IT’. Not for those with Coulrophobia.

2)Skipping Drills: No, this is not your pri-mary school sports day. Apparently this band’s bare-chested lead vocalist uses the microphone cord as a skipping rope during the instrumental sections. Grown men skip-ping is a rare sight, so we hope this band turns up at Saarang this year for some extra entertainment.

3)Alien Sky Cult: Can there be a cooler band name? Sacrifice some head-bangers, build the electric fire, groove wildly to metal beats and call upon the Alien Gods in their UFOs!

4)The Uncertainty Principle: Science geeks and engineering students would love this band, given its subtle allusions to the sub-atomic particular world and a theory pro-pounded by the great Heisenberg. For oth-ers who are like “What the heck-“, moving on,

5)Bees and the Busker: This band initially starts off like bees (guitars) singing in har-mony with a busker (vocalist), but during the guitar solo, the bees get angry and start chasing the busker. While I have put much thought into interpreting the band name, I’m sure the actual members of the band were slightly inebriated when they made this up.

6)Red Shorts: This may remind you of your dad’s boxers, but this is actually a band from Delhi that has, well, nothing to do with red shorts. They don’t wear red shorts during performances either, because that would be really Korean.

7)Jeepers Creepers: A band inspired by a horror movie about a flesh-eating creature on a hunting spree. Bloodthirsty as this may sound, the first picture that springs to our

minds, if we don’t remember the movie, is a jeep covered with creepers that isn’t scary at all, but actually very random.

8)What Plough? –Targeted at the agricul-tural sector, specifically paddy farmers, this band aims to spread information about the kinds of ploughs and their uses to curious farmers, who ask, “What plough?” They an-swer with some earsplitting guitar riffs that send the farmers running for their lives.

9)Gingerfeet: We know of duck feet and chicken feet, but have you heard of ginger feet? It might refer to gingerly walking to-wards the stage. Either way, googling the name turns up only results about the band, since no one in their wildest imagination has ever thought of such a name. Ginger-feet-1, Other Bands -0.

10)The Family Cheese: Honestly, I can’t think of a single reason for a band calling itself this. Once again, queries arise. Is it a cheesy family? Are they owners of a dairy production unit? Do they photo-bomb fam-ily pictures, yelling “Cheese!”? It truly con-founds simple minds such as ours.

-Kalyani

What Plough?

On August 22, 1639, when Francis Day agreed to buy three square miles for a Brit-ish settlement on the Coromandel Coast,

it wasn’t exactly the best decision at the time. The Madras shore was notoriously hard to dock – drownings and capsized ships were common, and it was dangerously close to a rival Portuguese fort, San Thome. “The most incommodious place I ever saw,” remarked a dismayed British captain. But while Madras seemed unattractive, a certain lady in San Thome had already enraptured Fran-cis Day. She became his ‘mistris’, and Francis Day, placing heart over head, laid the foundations of Madras.

Thus rose Madras, an unlikely port-city, borne of hard business and feminine charms. The hum-ble fishing village grew to become a centre of co-lonial administration and a hub of commerce and industry. Yet, Madras somehow never forgot its beginnings. Even after its name and thus identity was transformed to the flashier ‘Chennai’, it con-tinues to retain its humble ethos and its people, the value of hard work. Chennai retains the Ma-dras of quaint coffee and flower stalls, kutcheri sabhas, various messes, tiny shops and tradition while welcoming the onslaught of modernity – flyovers and plastic street signs, BMWs and new malls.

Chennai’s unassuming nature is revealed by its well-hidden secrets. It is one of the seven places in the world and the only one outside Europe and the Middle East to possess the remains of one of the twelve famed apostles of Christ. St. Thomas’s remains are housed in San Thome Basilica, a work of Gothic wonder. Though this claim is still con-tested by some, it makes no matter to the faith-ful of Chennai. Adding to the religious diversity of Chennai are older temples – some of the more famous are the Parthasarathy and Kapaleeswarar temples built from the 7th – 8th century AD on-wards, the Thenupureeswarar temple from the Chola period and the Marundeeswarar temple that harks back to time immemorial.

Chennai may seem to have a peaceful past, but it wasn’t without its heartwarming stories and war intrigue. Madras was the only place in India to suffer German bombing, as the German Kaiser’s SMS Emden fired incessantly at oil tanks in the port and attacked merchant vessels in the dead of the night. Following this, thousands of people, fearing German attack, fled the city. Even now, anyone who slyly acts behind someone’s back to hurt him or her is called an Emden in local par-lance. On Elliot’s beach stands a poorly main-tained off-white structure, dilapidated and falling apart. It is the Karl Schmidt memorial, built by the governor in memory of a Dutch sailor who lost his life while saving an English girl from drowning.

Chennai’s people, humble as the city, have also achieved greatness in various walks of life. From Nobel laureate C.V. Raman, to the Oscar awardee A.R. Rahman, from the flamboyant Rajnikanth to the calm Viswanathan Ananth, the business mag-nate Indra Nooyi to writer R.K Narayan, the city is proud to be home to these giants. Chennai is also one of the leading IT hubs of the world and produces 40% of India’s automobiles. Countless Nissans, Hyundais and Jaguars roll out of the Chennai port for export across the world.

On this 375th birthday of Chennai, we look forward to its growth as one of the leading global cities of the world, with a burgeoning population, yet looming infrastructural issues. Meanwhile, when elders mull over the simple comforts of the Madras of the past, talks over “How cheap the bus fare used to be!” and “There were hardly any buildings here before you know, it was all shrub land” make us think that Chennai, a dynamic city, will keep changing over the years. It’s up to us to make sure that change is for the better.

-Kalyani

Chennai – the Unassuming City

I t was a dull day in Northern Ontario when Terry Fox ran his last miles on September 1st 1980.. He had started out

strong that morning and felt confident. The road was lined with people shouting, “Don’t give up, you can make it!” words that spurred him and lifted his spirits. But after 18 miles he started coughing and felt a pain in his chest. Terry knew how to cope with pain. He’d run through it as he always had before; he’d simply keep going until the pain went away.

Terry Fox was born in Winnipeg, Mani-toba, and raised in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia, a community near Vancouver on Canada’s west coast. An active teenager involved in many sports, Terry was only 18 years old when he was diagnosed with os-teogenic sarcoma (bone cancer) and forced to have his right leg amputated 15 centime-tres (six inches) above the knee in 1977.

While in hospital, Terry was so overcome by the suffering of other cancer patients, many of them young children, that he de-cided to run across Canada to raise money for cancer research. He would call his jour-ney the Marathon of Hope, a journey that Canadians never forgot.

After 18 months and running over 5,000 kilometres (3,107 miles) to prepare, Terry started his run in St. John’s, Newfoundland on April 12, 1980 with little fanfare. Al-though it was difficult to garner attention in the beginning, enthusiasm soon grew, and the money collected along his route began to mount. He ran close to 42 kilometres (26 miles) a day through Canada’s Atlantic provinces, Quebec and Ontario. Terry’s left leg was strong and muscular. His right was a mere stump fitted with an artificial limb made of fibreglass and steel. He was 22 now curly haired, good looking, sunburned. He was strong, wilful and stubborn. The Mar-athon of Hope, a quixotic

adventure across Canada that de-fied logic and common sense, was his way of repaying a debt. He’d start before dawn every morning, running in shorts and a T shirt printed with a map of Canada. And the people of Canada were latching on to

Terry’s dream. They wept as he ran by, fists clenched, eyes focussed on the road ahead, his awkward double step and hop sounding down the highway, the set of his jaw, un-flinching, without compromise. Donations poured in. Reading of Terry’s goals, Four Seasons’ President, Isadore Sharp, was also caught up in the dream of the Marathon of Hope. He pledged $10,000 to the marathon and challenged 999 other Canadian corpo-rations to do the same.

If $1 million toward cancer research was within reach, why not $1 from every Canadian and further why not a goal of $23 million? The money came in many ways. People waited for hours on the roadside to watch Terry pass. Sometimes a stranger would press a $100 bill into his hand as he ran by.

“That’s the thing about cancer. I’m not the only one. It happens all the time, to oth-er people. I’m not special. This just inten-sifies what I did. It gives it more meaning. It’ll inspire more people. I could have sat on my rear end, I could have forgotten what I’d seen in the hospital, but I didn’t.” were the words that Terry told his father who felt that life was unfair towards Terry.

However, on September 1st, after 143 days and 5,373 kilometres (3,339 miles), Terry was

forced to stop running outside of Thun-der Bay, Ontario because cancer had ap-peared in his lungs. No mean achievement for an able bodied runner, and definitely an extraordinary feat for an amputee, the entire nation was stunned and saddened. Terry passed away on June 28, 1981 at the age 22. The heroic Canadian was gone, but his legacy was just beginning.

We have 28 countries currently hosting Terry Fox Runs and over $650 million has been raised in Terry’s name.

The run was brought to Chennai in 2009 by Akash Dube, a cancer patient, with the help of the Rotary Club of Madras East & IIT Madras. He had participated in the Ter-ry Fox Run in Dubai. The last 5 runs have been an amazing success with more than

50,000 supporters participating, and celeb-rities like Anu Haasan, Vikram, Radhika and Sarath Kumar giving their support. The GOC TN, Karnataka, Kerala area, The Offi-cers’ Training Academy and Dr Badrinath of Sankara Nethralaya have been torchbear-ers of the Chennai edition. So far, over INR 70,00,000 has been donated by numerous large and small contributors that has been donated to cancer research. Every year, the run is held on the last Sunday of August.

As the 2014 edition was a grand success, with over 15,000 Chennaites, both young and old participating, Saarang (2015) Eu-noia associates itself with the Terry Fox Run to spread awareness about Cancer, and raise donations for research into the cure of Cancer.

-Ananth

Saarang-EUNOIA

Spons team friend: “Yeah, so we got endless supplies of Coke, ‘Overad-vertised Biscuit’ (if you haven’t seen

at least ONE 6x6 banner or had ONE flyer thrust upon you, you’ve been living un-der a rock), a few t-shirts, and a cou pla other odds and ends.”

Me: “We got free double-sided tape, b**ch. Yeah, that’s right--FREE! DOUBLE sided!”

There is a very well-defined hierarchy when it comes to the organizing com-mittees of Saarang. Imagine a pyramid. There’s the top crowning pointy bit and the bottom bit. Then there’s the stand holding up the bottom bit. We’re, like, the rust on the stand. To clarify: there are two teams; The Rust--that’s the Ambience team, and The Others--that’s, well, the others.

Ambience, if the Saarang cores wake up to flex-printing, can be done away with entirely. But that has not happened yet, and so we have a team comprising of a few lost souls entrusted with the Kafkaesque task of making artsy props/instalments for a 635-acre expanse (okay, the few acres where the fest goes on). Like moles and <insert name of random unglamorous nocturnal creature>, they work away in some (literally--the light-ing sucks) shady corner of SAC while the entire machinery of Saarang whirs away, ignorant of their existence. They spend nights over props that they hope (in vain) are at least visible, and mornings wash-ing glitter off their scalps and scraping paint off their toenails (true story. Also, glitter is EVIL). They attend all-coord meetings and come out wondering what on earth just happened, when, for exam-ple, a) cores throw about statements like

‘all right guys, don’t forget to RSVP your ABCD to the ACP, and do the ERP, yeah?’ and all the others nod in unison and b) someone says ‘…and all thanks to NEU-RO--awesome macha!’ and you turn and ask your co-coord ‘Wait, we have some bloke called Bureau?’. Amidst a volley of ‘clause 6 of the MoU is a bit iffy, eh?’ and ‘yeah, I’ll seal the deal today with <in-sert name of random super-appealing brand>’, we try to pass off ‘Fevicol won’t work da, use superglue’. At the end of it all, we seek solace in the odd ‘yeah, that was pretty, that shiny thing in…wait, where was it?’.

Underdogs or what? At the end of yet another amazing Saarang, The Others are left with the bittersweet hangover of a tough job well accomplished, and The Rust is left with enough of black existen-tial humour to fill a Woody Allen film. Sigh.

The Terry Fox Run-Chennai

Post-Saarang B**ching Ltd. presents

The Curious case of Ambi-Coording

Shilpa is a third-year undergrad at the Humanities and Social Sciences Department. When not engaged in the composition of diatribes like the above, she can be found on numerous T5E editorial mail threads, in the form of pithy paragraphs of similarly worded and capitalised angst, or room 188, Sharav, where to her friends’ eternal regret, all this elo-quence deserts her in favour of some really bad jokes- eg. “The lady at the mess is named Treesa. Her sister is probably Shrub-sa”. Yeah.

CMYK

THE TIMES OF INDIA, CHENNAI 03SAARANG SPECIAL

One evening, I ring Butter Fingers and ask her to come with me to exchange the tee she’d gifted me. Not to be particu-larly nitpicking, but she never picks the right size. Or colour.

That’s what I like about her.“You actually think I’m going to come with you to Linking Road right now? When Master is batting?” Who said rhetoric can’t be an art form.“If I go on my own, then it won’t be your gift any longer.” “I’d still have paid for it, fucker.”“But I’ll pick up something else, and it costs more, I’ll have to pay for it myself. Kills the gift feel, no?”She’s a woman at heart, so she buys that. She talks non-stop as she drives me. Master is creaming the English bowling, Bandra has lost its charm, women don’t know how to drive. When we park in the gully adjoining Naganis, she’s rambling about how she’s not arty enough to be creative director at the agency.In the shop, I extract the tee which I want to exchange. “No ex-change allowed, sir.”Guess who steps in. “I buy stuff from here regularly. I’ve exchanged clothes before. Why can’t you exchange it?”“Company policy, ma’am. Exchange of clothes is not allowed.” He points to a sign which says exactly that.The colour rushes into Butter Fingers’ cheeks. She lifts her aviators and scorches the poor bugger with her gaze. He says, “Ma’am, I cannot do anything. You can talk to the manager if you like.”He disappears downstairs to call his boss, while Butter Fingers clicks her tongue as Raina leaves something that pitched outside off. “Che. Master would have punished that. Pull to square leg bound-ary”. Shop boy returns with a strapping, young man wearing a tee in the same design and colour I want exchanged.“Look, what’s the problem with getting the shirt exchanged? He hasn’t even worn it.” I nod meekly, and watch those fingers move as she talks. If she was holding something in them, it would have fallen. Thank god I didn’t give her my heart. More precisely, thank god she didn’t take it.“Ma’am, company policy. Exchange is not allowed”. Second time in the day someone points to the board. I look at her expectantly. She’s buying time. She stares at the life size blow up of Master in the corner of the shop.A glorious turn of the head, swiveling with the upper half of her torso. Like Master when he pulls to square leg.“I know Sachin Tendulkar personally.”Boss hasn’t seen this coming. She has given him a legitimate reason to continue staring at her. He manages a garbled “Sorry, ma’am?”“I worked with him on the Adidas ad. The one that is playing on screen right now. I can call him, and we can get this sorted out.” This is Bombay, and this is Butter Fingers. So it doesn’t sound silly. If I would have said it, Boss would have given me a lollypop, and asked me to run along home.“If he wasn’t playing now, I would have actually called him.” A Blackberry is thrust forward. I look around the store, trying to avoid Boss’s gaze. If she pulls this off, I swear to myself, I will never, ever entertain the possibility of being married to her.Boss is incredulous. At this point, he still seems to think that the greatest batsman of the modern game won’t bother himself with a tee shirt exchange in a retail store, simply because he endorses the brand and has worked with the customer on a television ad-vertisement.But that point doesn’t last for long. Like so many men before him, he begins crumbling. I see him capitulate before my eyes, and hope that I don’t appear so pathetic. I have a sneaky feeling that

I do.

“Ma’am, this is such a small thing. Why are you getting so worked up? Sir, please come and choose another one. Though I wouldn’t want to exchange. See, I’m wearing the same one. Haha.” I’m a man who keeps my word. I begin deleting images of wedded bliss.Butter Fingers’ face breaks into a smile. The fault-line of her lips swallows everything around her. Boss and I lose everything in the earthquake. Butter Fingers plonks herself on the seating, and tut-tuts at the game while Boss continues to look at her from the cor-ner of his eye.I pick up a green tee that is not two sizes bigger than my normal size, try it on, and present myself to her. She tears away from the screen, tilting her big, gorgeous head.“It’s nice, men. But it’s not too much different from the one I picked up. So much drama you do.” After all this, I’m the drama queen. I stand there like an idiot, wondering at the ease with which she slips in and out of the cloak of feminity.There are two overs to go before the Indian innings comes to end. Butter Fingers does not have to insist that we wait, and watch. Waiting and watching. I’ve become a master at that game at least. Bhajji is swinging, and connecting. Butter Fingers hoots like a hoo-ligan. There are no gentlemen left in this heartbreak of a sport. Boss’ minions are slapping each other’s backs. But Butter Fingers makes them look like a bunch of Englishmen sitting in the mem-bers enclosure at a Headingly test.Bhajji thwacks the last ball over mid-on for six. 317 for them to get. Butter Fingers looks like she’s the one who’s played a whirlwind knock. Come to think of it, she has. I pick up the bag with the new tee, and we walk out of the store. Shadows never fall on Linking Road.“I’m in the mood for pizza? Let’s go?” To her credit, she considers it for a brief moment. Then, she disposes.“Nahi yaar. Not town. I need to get home, and work on a brief. Cli-ent meeting first thing tomorrow morning. Bastard Sahni tells me at three in the afternoon.”The compromise is McDonald’s next door. Compromises are al-ways predictable. The colours of disappointment and solace from them are always red and yellow. Seating is available only in the open-air area on the first floor. We begin to devour our Maharaja Macs.

It is dark outside, but this is McDonalds. The cheap neon lighting makes its way outside where we are sitting, and I can make out kohl-lined eyes that are tired. They are looking down on the appro-priately named Linking Road, bridge between the island city and the suburbs. If only there was one such road connecting our hearts and heads. Butter Fingers goes from Fire Princess to Ice Maiden. Just like that.“Eh, you know some new place has opened up on that turning, coming from Shiv Sagar side. Right next to Mocha. New place there every six months, no? Sabi says the place is jinxed because it is haunted.”“Cha, this Sabi says all sorts of things, men. Just because he’s run-ning a restaurant in JVPD, he thinks he’s one Juhu Boy.”“Eh, you’re always after Sabi’s case. Listen to the whole story first. Back in the old days, when Juhu was still a place where only people with old money had their beach houses, there was a double mur-der there. Old uncle and aunty used to own that property. It was on the beach then. Juhu Tara and all came later. They say it was a hote-lier who had arranged. Same story. He wanted to build there, they refused to sell. Sabi was interested in the place when he wanted to start up. That fellow who ran the Italian place had put it up for sale. Sabi and him go back sometime. He only told Sabi not to consider. He had seen white shapes of Uncle and Aunty throwing pasta at his chefs with his own eyes.”

I roll my eyes, making a mental note to check with Dad about the real story behind the restaurants on the corner. Dad has known Juhu from the time when that fellow who runs the paan-shop out-side the now-defunct Haveli would have to turn back on high-tide days.Butter Fingers starts counting on her fingers the number of restau-rants that have come and gone. We argue over some names, and the duration for which they occupied that place.“Hey, Alisha ! Didn’t expect to see you here!”“Hi Sabi! Wow, what are you doing here?” Mr. hotshot restaurateur in the house.

“We all need a break from fine dining once in a while, yes? Espe-cially when you run the damn place.” Flash of white above the chiseled jaw-line with just the right amount of stubble. Uneven goatees don’t stand a chance in hell.Now it’s Butter Fingers’ turn to flash. Her world-famous dimples. My gaze hovers over her face like moths around a flame. “Who are you here with?”, she gushes, as I burn my wings.“Mamma wanted to pick something up from Metro. And my part-ner Arjun is supervising the restaurant today. So, driver at her ser-vice.” He makes an expansive gesture with his hands, and I see the reflection of Christ the Reedemer in her eyes. So this is what passes for charm these days. No one gives a shit if you know the capital of Colombia.I force a smile, as I’m introduced to Hotshot. I tell him that I’ve heard so much about him. I’m not lying. As Butter Fingers and Hotshot make plans to meet for coffee sometime, I stare at my half- eaten burger, trying to remember the capital of Burkina Faso. It’s a funny-sounding name, but I can’t remember.Butter Fingers is still beaming as she watches him return to the air-conditioned area. Then, she blushes. I raise my eyebrows. “I know he likes me, and I think I’m falling for him.” This the most unkindest cut of all. I sit quoting Shakespeare in my head, while stubbled entrepreneurs in white shirts walk away with the affec-tions of women I pine for. Story of my life.On our way out, we stop to look at the score. The English chase has begun. Strauss top-edges one from Sreesanth. Munaf at third man fumbles, juggles, but finally manages to hold on to it, even as he falls to his knees.A roar fills McDonald’s as we watch Munaf, cradling the ball like a baby, prancing towards his joyous team-mates.Alisha turns to look at me. She means only one thing when she says what she says before she hugs me, “Guess who’s not butter fingers anymore! Did you see how he held on to that?”

The End

I walk around,

(Separating myself from the walkingAnd the walking from the around)

Staring at the pink flowers, (Separating the staring, the pink, from the

flowers) Storing wholeness in fragments.

The sun is fiery and far, “The sun”, is a sound we create.

Sound sweeps vastness in a vessel, Which spins the curtain,

On the window of reality.

The sun is a weave of wavelengths, Causing nervous dominoes to tumble,

In an order that reaches memory, And becomes one with it.

The sun (or anything else that is perceived,

Or invented or stored somewhere) Is different from letters and sounds.

The essence is lost somewhere in translation, Of non-language into language.

A poet attempts to translate, A sight, a touch, an emotion,

As if a ray of sunlight can be stored in a box.

This storing is endless jumbling and confus-ing,

Of reality with words like reality.

Butter Fingers

Namrata ChaabbriaII B.V.A Stella marris college, chennai

In some corners of a world,where a delicate fairy like a bird,

swooshes with grace, silences every word,I tiptoe every night, scared of being heard.

The world of sleep is away from that of the wise,

you and me shall find it, in a matter of eyes.

Sleep, the very golden dust,prescribed by its merchant as a must,

is thrown in those tired eyes,hours before dusk.

But who knows where a man goes,away from the contingency of friends and foes,

he doesn’t know if he’s sonsy or scurrilous,the path of drowsiness is betimes flexous.

We close those lids with a trust,that we’ll return to senses and not rust.

None’s aware though of fate’s play,it might have you sunk in the drowse’s own

crust!

Duh! The brain wakes up with a jerk,but the body and its machinery,

lie supine refusing to perk.Oh poor heart, I pity your pound,

Thump! Thump! Your muscles then sound!

This state of trance between slept and awake,makes you taste the fake death-cake.

Sleep can arrest beings of every tonne and size,Lo! In a matter of eyes...

-Sagher manchanda, Pune

In a matter of Eyes

WINNERS CREATIVE WRITINGSAARANG 2014

of

WORLD CULTURAL SHOW-2015

When people think about Saarang they think about the night shows, the Sonu Nigams and the Sunidhi Chauhans but the true beauty of this festival is that it creates memories that last you a lifetime. One way to experi-ence this is to involve your mind, body and soul in something very unique and something truly ex-traordinary like < now read in Batman voice> the World Fest.

What is this ”World Fest”, you say ?

The “World Fest” at Saarang is a platform to showcase cul-ture and talent from around the world and hosts artists from var-ious countries across the world.

There are have been many such blah blah blah blah …… or at-least this is how Wki describes it. However, what the World Fest represents is to experience something extraordinary hap-pening right in front of you, it’s to tingle those senses that make you happy and it’s to create new memories. It’s a place where we can interact with amazing artists and listen to their life stories. It’s a place where we meet sword swallowers, mind readers, fire breathers and musicians ( and yes all for Free ! )

So, here’s a list of the amaz-ing artists that are going to blow away your mind this Saarang 2015

Roy Zaltsman (Israel)He’s the legendary Mentalist from Israel. Not only can he read your mind but he also wields the pow-er of telekinesis and telepathy. P.S just like inception he can plant ideas in your mind as well.

The Amsterdams (Romania)The Romanian Indie electro outfit play authentic new alternative music truly unique to the region. The Am-sterdams’ gigs are a burst of energy with the band members constantly switching and playing around with various instruments.

Inca Babies (England)Inca Babies are a post-punk death rock band from Man-chester, England featuring founder member and famous songwriter Harry Stafford on guitars and vocals. For all those death rock lovers out there this is the hallmark.

Humanfolk (Philippines)HUMANFOLK is a contempo-rary Philippine setting of multi-ple musical idioms such as jazz, rock and electronic music. With their soothing and rejuvenating music, they are sure to warm the hearts of Saarang audiences.

Tiny Fingers (Israel)This Israeli band combines post-rock, live electronics, psychedelic and groove, forming a powerful, su-per-intensive musical mix. With broken beats, unique guitar playing, fat bass and fresh synthesized sounds, the fingers integrate the messy intensity of rock mu-sic with the ecstasy of elec-tronic raves, creating a thick, unrelenting sound trip.

Mooi Wark (Netherlands)Mooi Wark are one of the most popular bands in the Dutch Rock circuit with over 100 performance dates every year. A BoerenRock “Dutch Farmers Rock” band by genre they have a great folk sound with a cheerful and upbeat tempo. Additionally, they sing completely in Dutch adding a great authentic-ity and exotic nature to their per-formance.

Murray and Falkenau (Ireland)With the instrumental talents of Anna Falkenau on the Fiddle and the lyrical capabilities of Ivan J. Murray (Vocals & Guitar) this Irish contemporary folk roots duo “Murray and Falkenau” distill the tra-ditions of Irish and American styles into powerful yet subtle music making

We Singing Colors (Romania)

Mark Bonafide (Singapore)

Canvaz (Ireland)

The Indie pop band from Romania, which start-ed off as the individual project of Andrei Hate-gan in 2011, has gathered some real steam. With the experience of over a 100 concerts all over Romania they are ready to soothe the crowd at Saarang with their jumpy music and charm.

One of the most successful rappers in Singapore, this famous personality has topped the Singapore R&B charts multi-ple times. Heard all over the Singaporean radio for his energetic rapping, this is one of the many firsts for Saarang.

The graffiti artist duo from Ireland are known for their highly realistic mas-terpieces on walls across various cities of the world. And now they are finally here in India to work their magic and produce some-thing very surreal. Watch them create art live, only at Saarang.

This Year World Cultural fest is

going to be fun than ever !

STAY TUNED :)

THE PROW SHOWSJanuary 7 Classical Night

January 8 Choreo Night

January 9 EDM

January 10 Rock Show

January 11 Popular Night

Insti Junta can buy tickets through this link http://ikollege.iitm.ac.in/iitm/

CMYK

THE TIMES OF INDIA, CHENNAI 04SAARANG SPECIAL

LOOKBACK @ SAARANG 2014