Return to Freedom.

Fear has almost lost its way into the hearts of people. No, I am not designing illusion. I am talking reality. It is the truth of people, moreover the power of masses. I haven’t seen anything like this before but am sure, things more than this are on the way to follow. Its pure obsession for something people have been starving for. It can’t be any far now, but its not going to be easy either. We need to blend our sentiments and our intellect, so that we reach our much desired goal.

While I walk lanes and by-lanes from my house to reach the place of tryst, which is almost the walking distance, to the barren piece of land. Where I would stand, shoulder to shoulder, with my brothers who like me are part of this Revolution, I am stunned to see the sea of people walking along and walking adjacent to me. I slow down my speed, my heart thumping with joy. I wanted some one to hear my heartbeats, but of course there were better things to do. I want to catch my breath, but who cares when one is walking to freedom.

I catch a glimpse of young boys, who have made a circle. Almost 10 of them. They have a pleasant revolutionary voice. Lyrics perfectly pronounced, and tempo rose slowly. Every one of them has right leg inside the circle they have made, while left leg is firmly placed on the ground.

I hear them reciting, Raggda, Raggda, De Raggda, followed by any Indian thing. They are lyrics of a long poem; they seem to have connected various poems but perfectly blend together.

Then there is this young guy, hanging on the bus. One hand cutting through the air like a sharp razor and singing with around hundred people,

Saeb Tou Bahana Hai,

Rawalpindi Jaana hai.

I finally make my way through to the place; all I could see is people. Old and young, rich and poor, father and son and what not. It’s a treat to the eyes. I have never seen something like this before.

And I hear a voice atop the truck, which worked like a stage. It’s a familiar voice, it moves through the air like a sickle. Its rhetoric. Nothing less than a dose of opium.

One single voice asks Hum kya Chahtay? And the one million people reply in one voice. Azaadi. Every single respond reverberates in air till the next slogan is raised.

I then hear one more voice, it familiar as well. He asks people raise their hands, people do. He asks them to raise both hands, and people do. And we have two million hands in the air, a sight very rare.

While people began to leave, I very much see the stampede in coming. But the discipline in people joyously shocks me. I also happen to see a bunch of people shielding army, so that no untoward incident takes place. Now, where do you get to see the discipline in a mob. It seemed Indian government and their agents failed to do their assigned work, that was to create panic, which would leave hundreds dead.

Bravo people, bravo. And yes as they say, “It’s a Revolution”. Indeed it is. And may be we finally have it.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -I

Two years. They say its pretty long time, but for me it has just winged away. I would have never believed time but I have been clicked on both my birthdays which came through. I have every reason to cry and bring out the emotions; something precious is slipping through my hands, leaving memories to live by, for the life to come. I feel the bond with each of 39 students in my class, and will definitely miss each of them. I will miss the stairs, something which attracted me to the department. I will miss my classrooms, walls I hated during lectures. And may be I will miss the faculty for one or the other reason. I have seen the department changing from DMS to TBS; I have seen the Heads change and so did the nomenclature. I am witness to everything that happened during past two years and more than that I have been the part.

Even though the journey starts much before we joined the department and may be ends much longer after we leave – Legacies behind. I thought of sketching my memories through alphabets, with the intention that whenever I feel low in life, I will have memoirs of this wonderful epoch.

My mind is as blank as SAP’s first internal assessment paper. And I walk in through huge aluminum gate. Not even the police guard is standing there. And I dream of owning this university, No idiot’s I don’t want buy it; I just want to be granted an admission. Far away I see bunch of guys standing outside the commerce department. I want to make sure, I look into every one’s eye and see if they feel the same. First time I see Lubaid khan, we look into eyes, shake hands coldly. There is nothing like friendship, it’s just a formality. Never knew life would bring us this close.

Zaib is around too, he was friend since college, so we roam around for some time before he gets into the GD hall. When they come back, I see one guy with all his blood rushed to cheeks throwing away a file containing some documents I took to be certificates. Zaib and I move away just to show our rejection for that very gesture. Yes, that’s Gazi Toufeeq, Roll no: 1, of our class. Prof Shabir was about to promise him a long stay in university if his luck hadn’t favored. And yeah, that long walk to Karim’s on a hot Delhi day, every one is going to remember and curse you for that Gazi.

Finally I get into GD, make sure I do my task well and come out happily. I believe that’s how you feel when you take on nine other guys single handedly. Personnel interview is much simpler, it’s almost cake walk. We discuss books and talk about Da Vinci Code and Holy Grail. It’s almost seems to be a friendly talk.

Few days before when results are expected, I meet Prof.Shabir for the first time in the office of a known Lecturer. I just take one assurance, RESULTS are not MANIPULATED. I simply do not understand what assurances did I want to take, I somehow felt, he just wanted to say, “Come along, I will screw you all through two Sems”. Not many days latter, when I am sitting with few friends in MBA department and the results are expected in few days, I irritate a Mam in Dean’s office to confirm if I have made it. She is very reluctant to answer. When she leaves the office, some one calls my name “Irtif”; she looks back and says, “Is your name Irtif Mehraj”. I nod in assurance. “I typed this name in both the lists of MBA and MFC”, is what I get to hear. I don’t look back and I jump in excitement. I find my friends happier than me. And since this day, I have felt like I own this university.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -II

Where do I start? May be when for the first time I see three people talking, Mubashir, Roof and Sheen, damn you guys, they were meeting for the first time and planning a picnic for the class which was yet to meet. It very well describes where it takes us for the next two years.

First class- Ajaz Mattoo comes in with the faculty, for the first and last time I see class as silent as that. Everyone seemed to be keen on ‘INTERNALISING’ each and every word spoken there and then. Silence was killing, I wanted to fracture the empty chair next to me on one of the professor’s skull, his old hair style is so ugly. Stillness broke with the knock on the door, a simple but pretty girl comes in, roughly nervous. I latter came to know, her name is Makhmoora.

I assure that every student in class felt like he was part of KIM-Hazratbal, some thing as strong an institution as IIM-Ahmadabad. And we had every reason to believe it. Prof.Shabir elated us more by talking about MIT and Harvard’s method of teaching. That till date remains to be the most motivating class; I sat in, in DMS. Iflah khan latter confessed of being scared of that untrue and full of lies lecture. Where the hell did he think he would fetch us jobs worth 10 Million Dollar? If nothing but every student learned how to fake his accent and some people proved far better in “FAKING”.

First break and all of us walk like the flock of sheep to Naseem Bagh, sit adjacent to little green shed, under the shade of a mighty chinar. We introduce ourselves, so many names, hush, information overload. I just do not listen to every name and make sure whichever I listen to I remember. Midway through the conversation, Insha, Deeba and Aasima get some tea and snacks, and I comically comment, “That’s what I would like for next two years”. And fortunately that’s what follows. What was not included was Kicks, new Pinches and Punches. Something I will miss “Fortunately”. Through next few days I remember every name.

Next day early morning, I see Fawzaan. He was in the same college I was in. We just knew each other and were much less than friends. But for the coming months, we started knowing each other better and somewhere we hit the right chord in each other.

Prof Shabir, complimented us by dedicating a theory in his class. “Like Irtif and Fawzaan, who got into trouble together, and are found on the same bench”. Some way these troubles got us much closer. (Perfectly under normal human norms).

Even before Insha and I were friends, one day she whacked me with the scale, I justifiably run after her and she broke last bench of our first class. Damn, I thought she broke her limbs as well but she proved to be hard for the wood used in furniture. Latter I got to know, even steel is used. But then that was just the start.

Iflah and I started writing on copies of unknown guys and girls in class. Signing pages just to make them unusable, filling the information, which we couldn’t even guess. Silly and absurd things which are endearing and not irritating at all. Amir’s scolding lesson’s started right that day, when we filled his J&K Bank Diary; he still uses the dairy this day. I am still unsure if he washes that dairy after every sem.

Somewhere in the first semester, when I was scheduled to go to Delhi for conference, I read my rough which was inscribed with:

Jewellery for Rouf; Sandals for Sheen; Clothes for Saba.

Damn, these kinds of silly things brought us together only to part away one day, in the longer run of life. Something which we cannot escape or run away from, something all of us morally and ethically are bound to do. But in this longer run for life we shall make it sure, Insha Allah, that we don’t enslave ourselves to the blind dream.

First picnic -Pahalgam. Boys empty handed and girls falling sides with heavy hot cases. One thing I am sure of, we always enjoyed the travel, more then the picnic spot. Waseem, Tabish and Faizan singing in full swing, Raat Ko Baara Bajay, Department ma Hulad Macha, Maina Suna, Kya Suna? And then a song for every one, followed. Where do I get friends to sing songs for me now? It’s hard to believe that no pranks are to follow. It’s hard to believe, Life won’t be same again. No class picnics, No friends to serve food, no friends to click you in disgusting acts.

Guys I appreciate your appetite, after having the feast girls had bought along, where did that packed food brought by Nazima’s Dad go? Waseem you must be still hungry? Zahoor we digested it all, I remember they made us wash the dishes. I still have the pic with me. But then that won’t count to any expirence in corporate sector.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -III

Seniors –Junior Brawl: There are always black sheep in a class and so were we. We just could not give ourselves to ragging, whatever way they wanted. There is no importance for the seniors in here, so I keep it short. Things heated up and ended up in a fight when my lone voice resonated in the hall, where eight of the senior students were about to dance. I had to repeat that line almost a hundred times before the inquiry committee we faced. Words were simple but sharp, “Nach meri bulbul tou paisa milenga”, and my voice made it look more intimidating. Fawzaan and Lubaid faced suspension and together we faced inquiry committee, which at some point in time had turned to be so ugly that we thought nothing less than a semester down, would come our way. I remember Lubaid being uncontrollable before committee; Khan I always had my ears on the door. But yea, I still want to see your T-Shirt, with some four letter word inscribed. You actually made Mufeed say it.

Prof.Shabir’s scary statement that he had my 20 page history and Fawzaan’s 200 page history. WhoaaaaaHHH, he took such pains to write that. Fawzaan, Why don’t you him ask for a copy?

One day I would have burst laughing if Sem down presumption would have not been on my mind. I had not known him till that day, and he was like “Not even the birds fly over this department without my permission”. My mind straight away went to Govinda’s Maharaja, an Indian movie, in which he talked to birds.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -IV

One fine day, after class was over in seminar hall, Qurat came to me and said, “Why are you so indifferent towards me?” I would have burst laughing but she was damn serious, I let the question go with my smile.

Soon the first semester ended, exams were to start in a fortnight and we had nothing more than Eco’s Area of focus and the doubt, if he really remembered the questions. Half the class was still unsure if Farooq wore a WIG. For OB- We always knew that marks are sent before the paper is set. And the prospective candidates who the class was ready to see in back log list was – Me, Fawzaan, Lubaid but fortunately we survived. I assure none of us went to his chamber. Not even to get our History.

Two worst papers we had to were, Quantitative Techniques and Finance. Something most of the students were bad at. Most of the students had one excuse, “We have a Science Background”. Even Darzi would inquire from student before asking a question, “Aap BBA hai?

Most of the students still soothe their minds by saying, “We are Managers, and we have nothing to do with making Balance sheets”. Why can’t they just admit, we can’t make them. Come on we cant even do what MBA’s are suppose to do. No, we cant find jobs worth a million dollar.

Group studies were on high in first semester. Almost every one studied in groups, I remember Zaib and me walking the deserted streets of Raj Bagh late evenings before we resumed studies which did not last long and then we would have dancing sessions and to relieve our over developed brains we would stand on our heads.

I still remember Zahid, Khalid and me studying together at Zahid’s house for QT. Damn, he kept me awake all night. Starting with probability and ending with functions. Khalid, he was almost asleep at 10:30.Yea, I remember Saba, Rouf and Sheen too were together studying QT. They irritated us with some miss calls. But yea they proved a relief while Zahid was crapping me with Simplex.

It was a month long exam, almost exhausting and worth having a trip at end.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -V

No soon the exams finished, people got busy with preparations for Industrial Tour, something which had kept us motivated all through the first semester. Zaib dragged me along for every work he was entitled to do as a CR, more because “The Placement Officer” had even transferred his work to him. From writing to the IYH for accommodation, to sending the draft, to reserving of air tickets, to arranging local transport to airport, to making of a fake I card for one student, to talking to any girl’s parents who wanted to be sure where they were sending their daughter.

And one Feb day we left, parting away with academics at least for a couple of weeks. We missed Insha and Fawzaan, who missed the trip. Rafi Khan moved in slow motion this day too, making us alarmingly late for the flight. It was not to end here; we had to pick Ayoub mid way which created some confusion as well.

We had almost half the flight space to us. We finally arrived at Delhi amid all the confusions and excitement. It hardly mattered as to what would happen next until we were all together. We were just ready face anything, even the two “SPYWARE VIRUSES” we had along. Once at Delhi airport, we were flocked into taxi’s for IYH.

First thing people did after reaching Delhi was buying Sim cards. Technology has got on every one of us. “Be Connected” seemed to be the new funda of life. The shop we viste for Sim cards was multi dimensional. He even clicked almost all of us for the forms to be filled by Subscribers.

Yea, that chicken Tikka brought life to my taste buds and also sufficed for the dinner. Days which followed were exactly intended to know each other better.

Be it Mehmood’s obsession for ironed clothes. Sameer, Zubair, Faizan and Wajahat’s art of playing cards and infecting almost every one with their game. Waseem and Tabish’s smoking window, which opened late in night. Zaib, Zahid and My accomplishments in keeping people awake all the night. Shafat’s early to bed and early to rise theory. Shahid’s strong communication skills which were duly tested after he talked to almost ever other guy present in hostel. Ovais’s handiness with camera during which he lost half of the best video’s of our tour. Even the one in which I demonstrated my journalistic skills. Zahoor’s book buying ability, he was a KAS aspirant then. Amir’s breakfast, with all unused butter and jam falling on his plate from every corner.. Toufeeq’s managerial ability of eating two Ice-Creams at Nirula without paying even for the one. Wajahat’s style of brushing his teeth while seated on a wash basin. Mubashir’s caring attitude.

Girls while in hostel remained busy with themselves, playing their own games. One thing we know is they took lot of time getting ready except for Aasima and Deeba who always had breakfast with us. Or that Aasima, Saba and Sheen’s stunt of scaring people with some layer of face pack applied. And Shaista’s shopping of a life time.

The dinners where Zahid made sure that every one reached Kashmir House some three hours prior to dinner. And made sure that none of them had a change of taste and did not loose schedule even on this kind of an outing. Zaib, Zahoor, Amir and I had our first dinner at Pakistan Embassy (half the class still doubts) and then followed with other dinners at Al-Quraysh, no that’s not in Lahore. That actually was lots of food with Appy Fizz. Followed usually with Ice-Creams an a long walk back to hostel.

First industrial visit was to Maruti Udyog, where Zaib excitedly asked the manager about their recruiting policy, and disappointedly the answer was, “We Recruit from Premium Institute’s only”. Even then many others’ followed with the same question in other organization’s only to fetch the same answer. Some thing which should have been disappointing but it almost became fun and latter we would joke about it.

Yea, Zaib you brushed Midway, Amir still has the pics. Saba, Aasima and Deeba tried their hands on cycle rickshaw. While guys clicked photos on the driver’s seat of the big bus we traveled in, only Ovais looked real and placed.

Britania- it took us quite some time before we got to the right place.. And finally we made our way into the factory wearing Congress caps. All we could smell was Biscuits, and most of us had the nausea feeling. Amir just looked like Subash Chandra Bose, and Rafi Khan wanted him to be clicked that way. That’s one time I heard Rafi talking, all the other times I was getting to believe that he is dumb. And that wonderful Dialogue of Tabish, “How many biscuits can we take home”, still gives me laughter fits. And Saba, yea she actually made them make tea for us. Ayoub’s gratitude had not even a single changed word from Maruti, not even the names I believe, I did not comprehend if he really knew this was altogether a different industry with different people or that he had just crammed those lines.

Mother Diary. That was a beautiful day. It rained all through the morning, our carriers had improved to a great extent, only that all of us could not be together while travelling. Innova’s and Safari’s was all we had, giving us the feel of being corporate Czars.

Milk most of times irritates my stomach so; I just clicked people gulping down liters together. Not only the milk, but ice creams too. Saba had too in hand. All the day long I thought we would have to hospitalize few of our students, but then I got to appreciate their appetites. That was the last industry we visited.

That open place in IYH, where we would sit for hour’s together, talking and singing. Irritating all other people sleeping sound in Hostel rooms. That English woman who came out in the middle of night to teach us etiquette’s. Best place to sit on was the swing, where we were about to through Ayoub ad Rafi for not allowing us a trip to Taj Mahal.

There aren’t many things which could be ignored during the trip. Just like Febuary 14, when all of us guys wanted to go to Ansal Plaza but girls made sure that they would accompany, whatever the case be. Or that valentine eve when Saba after long speculations presented Tabish a Yellow rose. And Tabish reiterated by giving his socks which he hadn’t washed for at least a year. That’s infectious. Saba got it injected with some high dosage of Norflox latter. But that didn’t improve its condition as such.

That after noon at Apu Ghar, where Aasima made me and Deeba accompany her in almost all the swings and slides. I remember Sheen crying every family member’s name, “Mumma, Paapaa, Naanii, Bayaaa” and tears falling like anything. Rouf was almost unconscious. Nazima made all of us sit around her for about half an hour before she could get to her senses. I still do not understand what on earth they were trying to do, why at all did they have to risk their hearts. But then that also added flavor to the day.

The day did not end there. While Sheen, Aasima, Deeba and I were having Masala Dosa, our brave brothers were fighting Afghan’s. Praise me Zaib, I had made you have some Afghani chicken the day before. Toufeeq and Waseem had gone into negotiations while others were still fighting, that’s what Delhi does to people or may be that was Shabir’s Influence. Iflah and Rouf spilled even the last tear drop somehow making the evening melancholy.

While all the class was on its way back to home, Zaib, Zahid and I were on half India tour. I wonder this day, why did Zaib not buy Paav for the lady. And what made us have Ice-Cream at about 3 am in central Mumbai.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -VI

Won’t ever lie in truth and dare but when next time will all of us sit together, widening circle on arrival of every second guy, playing “Truth and Dare” in the legacy of Mughals –Naseem Bagh. I promise I would dare this time round. I still remember few of your dares people. Zaib washing dishes at Hameed saeb’s elevation less tap. Qurat actually sat with a couple who probably were discussing syllabus. Insha in fact hugged the aunty in cafeteria. Deeba almost ran away with the vegetable bag. Saba and I cycled for quite some time before the young boys got to know I wasn’t dumb, nay that wasn’t a dare that was FUN. And that one dare that could have landed Fawzaan in trouble yet again. Lubaid had given Insha an ORKUT dare.

Things to remember, nay, this is not a Farooq Khan Slide, these are his Memories

1. Mubashir never missed a class, never had confusions which implies he never understood a thing.

2. Three fourth of the students learned crashing so well that they applied it in RM and Eco Classes. Now that’s what I call Managerial Skills.

3. And that play, where he almost shrieked into Roof’s ear, “Tumari Math Mari gayee hai”. Damn, he should have been in bollywood but dialogue remembrance would have been a problem their too.

4. Yeah, he once caught Roof and Me having lunch on the back seat, with morsels of bread spread all over my notebook, he dint utter a single word, he knows how to keep secrets.

5. Fortunately Fawzaan’s GPRS was working when he with Amir were caught in class. They just did not know what topics RM has.

6. Even Juniors know his favorite color is Rani Pink. His slides say so.

7. He was about to break a lap top on Wajahat’s head, fortunately he just forgot the purpose once laptop was in air. What kind of memory is that?

8. Insha doesn’t remember his voice, she always had earphone’s plugged in.

9. Toufeeq knew well how to use adjectives in his class.

Hoooooffffffff, that was too much of him.

One teacher whose class I have enjoyed is Ajaz, hope nobody asks me why? I missed his eleven classes, either he would not allow me in or he would throw me out of his class. Once I was almost drowned in Paulo Cohelo’s book when he woke me up and Lubaid had to repeat his presentation just for me. No, nothing more. I don’t mean any offences here.

One day in OB class, course which anyway has to be taken under the American influenced Prof, he makes me remember Almeda of KKHH.

Prof.Shabir is responsible for the course. He is moreover a panic to the students like me for the first year. His unique style of throwing cases like almonds in a marriage is amazing.

1. “Sir,Who is Peter Drucker?” that one question made me turn my skull full round, only to see Fawzaan, the “ROGUE”.

2. Insha reading a case, while Shaista repeating the same. That day I saw Shabir’s patience, he waited till the results.

3. Sheen read a case out of a blank paper and Shabir always looked for different perspectives of her.

4. Yeah, Yeah how can I forget silence in Class once I read crucibles. He kept on complimenting about that all through the semester. I promise he dint understand a single.

5. Fawzaan and me opting for an option in LCLD case, which was not followed by Americans and then making him work on that option.

6. Saba blowing off the dust of his shirt, which then cost her OD.

7. Mudasir’s wonder Crucible, of he being asked by his friends father, “Which is the Capital of Punjab”?

8. That one mass bunk by the class.

In classes like QT and Finance felt like being in school. They come, they write on board and they leave. That isn’t a happy ending anyway.

Prof Shah’s single reprimand of two semesters, “You are the most non serious girl of this class” referring to Iflah. What made him say that, nobody knows. Not being among the first five toppers all through these semesters helped her.

Prof Sahaf almost in every class tried to prove his innocence, he always made me remember one of the Bahu’s in Baa, Bahu and Baby. Who always keeps on reapeting “Maina Kuch Nahi Kiya”. Those useless questions which Fawzaan asked of Sahaf, like that of PR and advertising. And when class would get boring, they would take him to some unending discussion about the system.

Damn you people, I will miss classes. I will miss the Professor’s as well.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -VII

Second and Third Semesters were slow and were filled with lots of classes, bunks, presentations and to add were role plays, picnics and a certificate course. That one role play by Roof and Tabish till date remains one of the hilarious role plays in our two years.

Visit to Islamic university for the lecture of gentle men who has been gracious enough to grant our department with number of foreign books which are never read for two reasons (i) they are not issued to students. (ii) faculty is not interested in reading.

That picnic to Doodpather, soon after Prof. Sahaf had taken as the Head, I believe was the only one where both Sems and faculty together went for a picnic. Our class was marked with a very low attendance. But food as usual was wonderful, thank you girls. I will really miss that. Water was too cold where as a ritual we submersed. I remember that day more because Zaib was relieved from his duties as CR, the only decision Sahaf took as the Head, and started loosing “Relevance”.

Our first industrial tour in the valley was organized by Ajaz sir with the help of few students particularly Mubashir. We went to Triesh and to their adjacent spices factory. That visit moreover proved to be a picnic; we had our lunch at Wazir Bagh, one of the many beautiful gardens in Islamabad. Class to me seemed broken this day, while I was still entering the garden I saw class broken into two circles and left with no options we had to form the third one. I believe that’s where people started parting away. Some thing many would have not even thought about, others as such were the part. I do not know how many observed it, but all realized in coming days.

Insha and Lubaid had for the first time accompanied class out of the university gates, and almost broke the swings and slides made for children in the park. Leaving away the parted thing, every one had wonderful time. That pic with ice cream on face never made to Lubaid’s Orkut profile.

Some day’s latter, when second semester exams finished of which I missed my two papers because of a conference in Finland. A Strategic Negotiation Certificate course, started in erstwhile DMS, something I considered to the best few hours of learning in the Department. That one role play which I had to do with Tom, Ughh that was too much. Somehow those classes gave me a feel of being a management student.

Then was turn for the controversial Farewell-Fresher’s Party, something where the “Gunda Group” got sticked out again. Where did we get that name? Sahaf once characterizing us to our juniors had coined the word “Gunda Group”, the Revolutionaries as I call it. Always the stand firsts. We were also called as boycott group by our friends in class. We were not a part the party for so many reasons, not to be described here. Lubaid, Fawzaan, Amir, Zaib, Insha, Sheen and Me.

Apart from that I was very much involved with university politics and happened to become the “Founding President of KUSU” during those very days.

And then, the last official picnic we had, no that was unofficial too. Drang, a good experience as well. We enjoyed the long walk to now extinct monuments. and then the food which was followed by some wonderful songs of Zahid made that trip wonderful aswell.

Third Sem exams finished and people started looking for Winter placements, a worse kind of an experience for every one. With around 18 students doing summer project with HDFC, 11 with Reliance and few others in Delhi. Some thing which made me sure, Placements were nothing but a hallucination, which would come down by the time we were in fourth Sem. No companies except from Insurance industry were to come for campus recruitments.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -VIII

Fourth Sem started with Grand viva, and the start was moreover slow. Students were now less enthusiastic about classes and every other departmental activity. Few regular faces were missing, Zaib, Zahid, Mubashir, Roof, Sunila, Shahfat, Saba. Others like Waseem, Tabish, Toufeeq would be seen on rare occasions. Lubaid, I don’t remember if he gave any class in fourth Sem. Fawzaan, Amir, Insha, Sheen and Me kept on giving classes at regular intervals. During this Sem we also started discovering places such as Nursery where we would sit for hour’s together.

Fawzaan and me found few other places as well, where I would read my book and he would sleep or Orkut.

Final nail in the coffin was getting the Placement cell to answer our questions about placement, and making them accountable, but then they have hit us much harder, they have left us without placements.

One or the other way, because the batch was reduced to about 20 student’s people again began to feel the attachment which was shared in first and the half of second Sem.

Yes, Also MBA lost all the matches it played, whatever the sport. Irony is Faizan played every match. Better check your stars buddy. You aren’t lucky for the team.

The last picnic to Yusmarg, my hands quiver when I write the word “LAST”. I hate writing this word. Although it added few more memories that all of us share. Waseem staring at a couple to win a bet worth one hundred, and falling down the slope, almost drowned in mud. That brunch after a trek of 50 meters, yeah most of you were exhausted and wanted to sit after every 5 meters.

That walk to Doodh Ganga, and the final bath and may be the last one we had in open waters. Even though it was followed with small trip to Pari Mahal and Chesmashahi, where we almost ran into waters scaring every other person. But then some memories last longer.

Or the “Last Perfect Act” of Mubashir which froze every one, even the ones who were part of that scary prank. And then Waseem and I praising his act, with Eggs and Tomatoes. It just made his hair more silky.

Last week, it has been very emotional in the department with most of the girls crying over the, to be followed parting away. With Movies being made out the photo’s clicked through two years and emotional songs in back ground makes it all the more Nostalgic.

May be the life will never be same again, may be 3^rd September will be the last time I see all you guys together. May be I will never see many of you again. May be nothing will be same again. But then we still can promise some “RE-UNIONS.”

P.S. This is my story, the way I LIVED my two years in university. Much more than this happened, something which can’t be written but felt. I do not have a very strong memory but whatever I could remember and felt could be a part of this piece is here. Any mistakes and errors are mine and I love them as much as this piece itself. This piece has not been written to offend anyone. These are the beautiful memories. Some thing I will cherish all my life. Even though I wanted this to be written all together a different way but few compulsions kept me high on heels. Even though it could be improved upon, but I wanted it unedited. So that I don’t blow in some fake emotions or try to hide some.