My noise

Disclaimer:
All characters in the following story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real-life persons is entirely coincidental.

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For Jojo and his to-be-soulmate, Juggy had no sympathies whatsoever. He relentlessly complained about Jojo being the reason why girls scream, 'I hate men!'. Apparently, he knew girls way better than Jojo. I wouldn't blame him. After having read "What women want and everything else under the sun" I was inclined to the feeling that a person who had no idea who he had kissed without the effects of alcohol deserved to be plaqued, with every right, with the title Juggy had suggested.

Jojo wasn't a man renowned for his patience and with every passing minute of Juggy ceaseless banter about men like Jojo being the root cause of all evil, I couldn't help but get the feeling there would be a need to call in the emergency services pretty soon. If Juggy's words were indeed getting to Jojo, the latter would strangle himself, otherwise the latter would probably beat the former to ham. Fortunately, Teja interrupted before long.

"Dude, Juggy. If you can't make yourself of any help, get your filthy ass out of here."
"But just look at this guy. He kissed the girl with no sort of ratification of her identity."
"Look, we know Jojo has a compressed rat's brain. But, we should be helping him out in his spot of bother."
"I don't know why you are encouraging him. If you get behind him, the next thing you know, he'll be kissing every girl behind the parking lot in the dark."
"If such a thing were to happen, ill slip a live wire into his bed and wait for him to electrocute himself."
"I am not sure you could do that."
"Cometh the hour, cometh the man."

Juggy frowned at Teja for a while then gave in.

"Fine. If you think you can handle him. What do you propose, Sherlock Holmes?"
"That is beyond me. That is why you should always have a dumbass in your group who goes around reading books on women's mindsets." He waved a hand vaguely in my direction.
"Lawl. I think the matter is pretty straight-forward. Jojo has to walk up to one of the twins, and ask her if she was the one he kissed. There is nothing better than honesty. He should probably explain the whole matter."

We looked around at Jojo to find him throwing bits of paper at Worm, who made lazy attempts to dodge them.

"Juggy," I said," if we ever need a recipie for disaster, we will surely get back to you. But right now, the problem statement is such - Jojo has to figure out the kissed girl, and stay alive after he does so. The girl will frikking murder Jojo and bury his honesty alongside him in his grave."

Jojo now seemed to tired of his previous sport and was making faces at himself in the mirror.

"Jojo, you ass!" Juggy shouted. Jojo leapt two feet off his berth and turned around to face us.
"Oh, sorry." He twirled his mouth about and settled into a more normal expression. "I got carried away a bit." Juggy looked like an old mother ready to whack him with a broom.

"Anyway." I continued. "There is nothing better than patience in this matter. Jojo, my friend, the matter is simple. You have to be around the twins, no matter what."
"Which twin?"
"Both twins"
"Harry, they are two disjointed people."
"I know. Just hang around them all the time."
"You mean hang around with either of them?"
"Exactly. But make sure you don't hang out with one twin for too long. Distribute your time."
"Alright. But what will that lead to?"
"It will buy us time. Then the psychology of the individual can take over."
"The what?"
"The psychology of the individual. It is the study of the human mind and how it would react to different situations. Jeeves employs it all the time."
"Who is Jeeves?"
"Never mind. Focus."
"Aye aye."
"Repeat after me. Spend-time-with-twins. As simple as that."
"Got it."
"Very soon, you will be sailing like a ship on butter."
"Do ships sail on butter?"
"No, Jojo. That was not the crux of the statement. But never mind that. Don't stress your brain too much. You have a job on your hands."

Disclaimer:
All characters in the following story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real-life persons is entirely coincidental.

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Juggy was the soul that I shared my room with. Debates raged in various circles as to who was the more unfortunate of the two for having the other as roommate. Juggy had no doubt in his mind whatsoever. In his opinion, the Indian judiciary system should have considered handing the penalized an option between 5 years of rigorous imprisonment and 5 weeks with me wherever applicable. Once when I was lying half-naked on my bed, he had cared to remark that he couldn't see why our forefathers even thought of giving up their lives so that scum like me could enjoy freedom. I on the other hand, was hell-bent on proving that Juggy was a wandering perverted saint who had mistaken the university for the Himalayan mountains and his colleagues to be his disciples.

The first reaction of Juggy when he heard of Jojo's adventures was rather predictable. He swayed for a moment on the spot as though there was a strong breeze determined to knock him down. He stared from me to Jojo repeatedly to ensure that we weren't fooling with him. Once he had done so, the hand clasped the head in magnificient fashion and we heard him muttering although we barely saw his lips move. We did find out later that he was cursing the reckless, spoilt minds (read Jojo) that, according to him, had sprouted all around him without accord.

To every soul that breathed, he was a positive pain in the ass. When given an opportunity to speak, he would preach and humbly request us to mark his words and follow them. He had, of course, made it to the cellars of fame in our college when he stood up in the middle of the class and downright condemned the use of 'insensitive and offensive language' by the professor of algebra. Only later, after he had made a complete ass of himself, did we come to understand that he mistaken the word 'rate' for 'rape'. Even the whole class, all of about 200 students, laughing at him and a furious professor were insufficient to divert him from his means.

It was a wonder, as Teja said, that he knew english. For a man against capitalism, soccer, cigarettes and anything even remotely western, he got along with english pretty well. He seemed to have no complaints, with english-medium education, with the computer or with english songs. He surprised us all when he got his laptop late in the second semester and got us sick and tired of Nickelback by the end of the day. Jojo ran out of the room when he played 'Rockstar' for the eight time in an hour. I got the feeling I was beginning to remember the lyrics of the damned song and the tune irritatingly kept playing in my head even when the music had stopped blaring from the speakers. Teja silently swore never to let any Nickelback song to ever infest his iPod and somehow knew Jagdish Jhunjhunwala, alias Juggy, would keep us wondering about his sanity for a few years to come.

Inspite of all that he was, we were good friends with Juggy and like all good friends, we always stabbed him in the front. We couldn't help it, he was that sort of a person. He was short and plump and seemed to roll when he walked. If were to see him scurrying along a corridor for the first time, one couldn't help but be frought with the fear that he might simply fall onto his side and lie there like an upturned beetle. His legs were probably more powerful that they looked at first sight. It must take some doing to propel that globular mass forward and onward. His style of walking was comparable only to the Worm and the two of them together were miles away from the rest of the pack.

Juggy's habits were always a wonder to us. Teja swore he could lay down a thousand bucks and claim Juggy had never masterbated. Jojo took the matter on step further by claiming Juggy didn't pee (Which, incidentally, none of us had seen him do). I could tell from his nervousness, he had never talked to a girl for more than 10 seconds or 3 sentences, whichever was earlier. However, the word in town was that he did have a girlfriend; which was what beat us all. It paved way for Teja's remark : "You know, girls have a worse choice than boys when it comes to choosing their soulmates. I mean, just look at the situation. There are so great guys without girls and yet these girls pick out the biggest jackass in the lot to be their boyfriend. Guys on the other hand, have not left out any hot girl. It just goes to show. I bet Juggy's girlfriend is really hot. It's just the way the world turns." Worm merely nodded to whatever each one of us said.

"Did you know Juggy is the sole heir to some few million rupees worth of property?" asked Jojo one day while we stared at the mentioned person scamper off to the cafeteria. There was no rumor that was left unheard by Jojo. It helps to be in the company of girls who are experts at gossip.
"Who said so?" asked Teja.
"I don't know. That is the word. It seems his dad is a big shot back in his town."
"Hmm. When we do plan to do our gigs, we'll make him sponsor us."
Jojo rubbed his hands together.
"And as the manager of your band. I shall ensure that the money is spent well."
"Hear, Hear."

Worm sat staring at Teja's guitar and silently drinking in every word.

Teja merely grinned back at Jojo.
"Teja, you ass. Why don't you make yourself useful and help me out a bit here. I could really use some help right now." There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Teja finally stopped yanking Jojo's tail. He could be a really handy friend when one needed him. He had once helped yours truly get out of a tight spot when I had been taken into police custody for interrogation. But that's a different story altogether. At the moment, the four of us were crowded into Teja's room brainstorming over Jojo's rather avoidable situation.

Teja was the first to speak up, though not very convincingly. "Are you sure you wish to date one of these chicks? I mean, you could use your time so much better." Jojo thought for a second and then replied. "You can rule out the option of me backing off. It's a matter of whether I should sit around and wait or really chance my arm."

I somewhat reassured him. "Don't call it 'chancing your arm'. We'll figure out who the unfortunate maiden is, sooner than later; don't you worry."

Juggy was never a person with gifts of concentration. He was the sort of person who would forget what he was talking about by the time he finished a sentence. We didn't blame him for it. So, it wasn't very surprising that when he finally got a chance to break the silence, he did so by claiming that a prostitute had made herself comfortable next to him on the bus earlier that day. Jojo's case study was cast aside when he spoke thus.

"I swear she was a prostitute!", he protested when we refused to believe him. "She was rubbing her elbow against my groin! She was a whore if there ever was one. She was trying to seduce me, you know. Trying to make me get an erection." I frowned at his words. How come such things always happened to Juggy? Teja raised an eyebrow as a sign of interest. Jojo had turned over on the bed with a curious glance at Juggy.

"What do you mean 'tried to make me get an erection'? You mean to say you didn't get one?"

Juggy shuffled his feet as a response and tried to avoid everyone's eyes by staring out of the open window. Jojo gave a sudden snigger and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Whoa, whoa. What have we here? Looks like there are more interesting matters than me going around kissing twins. Juggy, my friend, you were saying?"

Juggy looked like he could have killed himself for having brought the topic up. Teja withdrew himself from his reclined position."Lawl ! Did you not get an erection? Dude, the girl was nearly scratching your balls, the way you describe it. How can you frikking feeling nothing?"

Juggy looked around at each one of us in turn and finally gave in to the relentless eye-balling.

"Fine, fine. I didn't get an erection. Does that make you happy?"
"Pray elaborate, my good man."
"Well, I simply started chating 'Ram, Ram' in my head. I said to myself 'You are a good man, a pious man. Lust is for the weak. It is nothing but mayajaal. It's all moh-maaya'" Juggy looked like he had swallowed a lemon really quickly.

"Holy crap, man!" said Teja barely able to believe his ears. "You thought of all that shit while she was busy touching you?? Dude, you should have simply taken her offer. Ask Jojo how difficult it is to get a girl these days." Juggy frowned.

"You would have done the same too, if you were in a public place. Don't you blame me." But none of us were listening. We had made ourselves busy by rolling over the floor with laughter.

"Yes, yes. Laugh all you like. But one day you will realize I was right. Lust is not everything." Juggy said as he stormed out of the room.

Disclaimer:
All characters in the following story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real-life persons is entirely coincidental.

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 Over the first week of my introduction to Teja, I had wondered what a person of his caliber was doing in our college. I oft wondered how a person like him was not making news headlines elsewhere in the world. He could have been a rockstar, a youth icon and so much more. The only stupid decision he seemed to have made was that to drive down the engineering road. Maybe none of his well-wishers knew anything much about engineering at all to divert him from the miling crowd of endeavouring engineers.

"I think I know what it is." said Jojo unexpectedly one day when I voiced out the abovementioned thoughts. "TMK doesn't sound cool at all. We know how cool he is because we know him, you know. But those of him who don't know him, will have to know him through his name or his initals, you know. And you know they aren't cool." I took a minute off and retreated to fully absorb what Jojo had told me. Well, yes, Teja Murali Krishna was not the ideal name for a rockstar and neither was TMK the ideal nickname for a youth icon.

Teja hadn't been blessed with the best looks either. He was rather ordinary looking to say the least. But he knew how to dress. He never tried too hard, as with everything he did, but always managed to pull it off. Even the simplest of costumes looked good on him. In many ways, he contrasted Jojo. Jojo had the kind of dreamy looks that girls somehow always fall for. But even they got repelled by his dead-brainness. "Nothing repels girls more wonderfully well than a hint of bad breath, a touch of body odour and an ounceful of Jojo" as Juggy once put it. Teja on the other hand had,in my book, everything that a girl could possibly want. He had a coolness quotient beyond compare and a bring-it-on attitude that should have ordinarily squeezed even the faintest of 'ooo's out of girls. But somehow he never seemed attracted girls. He did once have a girlfriend, he told me. "But she had a problem with my smoking. She told me if I continued smoking, either she'd start smoking too or she would dump me. So I dumped her instead."


We found Teja in his room later that day. "Drop the case, Jojo.", he said, without bothering to look up. His guitar always got more attention than it could have asked for. "Oh only if it was a girl." Jojo had once said, referring to Teja's guitar. "She would run away out his over-posessiveness and over-obsession and I could have had her on the rebound", he added with a wink. I assured him that he would have won plenty of girls if that had indeed been the case.

"Girls are nothing but trouble, trust me." said Teja once he finished fretting over the invisible marks on this guitar. "You are better off without them. Besides, you don't want them to get to know how stupid you really are."

Jojo made a grumbling sound and set himself down on the bed of the-engineer-who-never-was. The-engineer-who-never-was ought to have been Teja's roommate. But he never arrived. Instead there was a pair of unclaimed shoes on the bed on the first day of university that probably belonged to him. To quote Teja, "Maybe he was out to be an engineer but he knew he never was one. So our engineer-who-never-was simply legged it and left his shoes behind in the hope that maybe I would leg it too and would join him in the wilderness. But I have failed him. I have let down his trust. Oh engineer-who-never-was, please forgive me. I have let you down. I've never had the guts." Teja had succumbed into violent sobbing the first time he uttered those words. Juggy had to run over to comfort him and Jojo felt Teja should be thrown into the nearest asylum with a couple of hefty guards who would ensure he didn't set the place on fire.

Jojo made himself comfortable on the bed. "Do you think the-engineer-who-never-was had a girlfriend?"

"Probably yes." was Teja's reply. "Maybe he had legged it for his damsel in distress. That force would have been alone to motivate him."

Jojo was lying back staring at the ceiling. "Do you think he would have kissed a twin?"

"No that can only be done by a person of your supreme intelligence. I have always wondered why God didn't give you a lizard's body. It would have fitted your brain so beautifully."

Jojo muttered something that sounded like "Cut the crap".

Teja smiled at the effect his words had brought about. "But well, on a positive note, maybe it is fitting that you kissed one of the twins." Jojo looked around at him with a ray of hope. "Ya, you never know, you could end up courting the other one instead and consequently getting murdered in cold blood by the former. Anyways, you'd do the world a favor by getting your fat ass off it." Jojo gave him a look that plainly said 'I could ask for nothing better than being able to strangle you'.

Disclaimer:
All characters in the following story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real-life persons is entirely coincidental.
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It would have been easy, no doubt, to dismiss the matter as a case of rash youthfulness and carry on on the merry road. But, I knew better than to act that way. Jojo was a person to be handled differently.

"So let me get this straight. You kissed one of the Hussein twins."
"That's right."
"And this was your first kiss."
"You got me."
"And you have no idea which girl you kissed."
"Well actually, I have narrowed it down to two."
"Were you drunk?"
"Nopes."

I seemed to have hit bedrock in my interrogation session. The character of the person before me was beginning to baffle me even more now.

"Didn't it strike you before you kissed the girl that you ought to know who she is?"
"Well, it did strike me. But I was taking for granted that she was Aisha. I didn't bother to examine the matter further. Then when we kissed, I thought she tasted like Aara."
"What do you mean 'tasted like'? Have you tasted her before?"
"No, I got this gut feeling as one may put it."

I eyed the man with a bit of impatience. Gut feeling indeed. If only he had a penny for each gut feeling he ever had. That last time his 'gut feeling' theory had been put into practice was when he blew out the Cathode Ray Oscilloscope in the lab. "Harry, I've got this under control. Don't you worry." he had assured me. "I am getting the gut feeling this is the right way to connect these godforsaken wires." The next thing I knew, the harmless looking instrument was fuming and so was the lab assistant who had appeared out of nowhere to stand behind us. I asked him for an explanation later. He came up with the innocent-sounding reply, "Harry, there are no explanations for gut feelings. You cannot express the feeling in words. It just comes from inside." while he leant back on his chair with his feet on his table. It was, according to him, one of the most important corollaries of the gut-feeling theory - The gut feeling theory has no feasible justifications.

I was just beginning to work out how much richer Jojo would have been if he did indeed have a penny per gut feeling when Teja walked in.

"Hey, I saw Jojo pass by like the breeze." He made himself comfortable against the door-frame and said, "I give you thirty seconds. I've got a class to attend." He performed a hand gesture to indicate he had started his stopwatch. Jojo was in no mood to repeat his tale, so I had to do the honors. By the end of it, Teja was brightened up beyond compare. "Way to go, Jo. You have hit new lows. I'll get back to you for some more shit after class." With that and a wave of the upper arm, he was off.

Jojo was wearily staring at the tube-light as I turned back to him.

"You didn't ask her who she was?"

He didn't bother to take his eyes off the tubelight as he replied."What am I supposed to ask? 'Hi, I know we kissed, but I don't know your name. Do you you mind telling me?'? That would have ended my chance with her faster than Teja can smoke a cigarette."

I turned the prospect over in my mind. "Well ya, that would have been a dumb thing to say."
"Thank you. But I haven't come here for you to accredit what I have already done. What am I to do now? Should I humbly ask one of them, or wait to see which one of them approach me or try to hit on both of them again?"

"Ah, my friend, you have come to the right person and at the right time." I patted the book and held it up again so that he could see it in clearer light again.
"What is that about?" he asked again.
"Ah, nothing great. The title says 'What women want and everything else under the sun". So from what I make of it, it's a book about everything." I repeated once again.

He stared at me for a second as if in utter horror.
"What?" I asked.
"dejavu", he whispered. "I get the feeling you had said the same thing some other time."

His dumbness never ceased to surprise me. But thankfully I usually knew what to expect of him. So I merely shrugged the shoulders and continued.
"Anyways, we cannot employ any of the methods suggested by thy naiive self. The matter calls for subtleties, my friend. You think Sherlock Holmes would have simply followed one of those alternatives. No, he would have assessed the situation on hand and deployed a ploy of his own. This book here is one of the keys to unravel the puzzle."
"Ooo, is that a Sherlock Holmes book? I've always wanted to read one. Pass it to me."
I ignored his statement, his request and his outstretched hand in totality.
"Jojo, we are going to figure out the unfortunate Hussein that you lay your filthy lips upon, don't worry."

Disclaimer:
All characters in the following story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real-life persons is entirely coincidental.
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He burst into my room, well almost. For a moment his existence seemed to have escaped him but soon enough, he regained composure. With his head well below his shoulders, his hands outstretched, clutching the door-frame and beads of perspiration dripping down from the tip of his hooked nose, he presented quite a sight for the onlooker. If it weren't for the book upon my lap, I might have stood up and applauded his performance. But instead, I gave a snicker and hoped it would suffice. I gave him a full two minutes to regain composure before putting forth my amicable question, "Howdy, Jojo? Did the sky come crashing down again?".

Jojo was a piece of art. One of God's creations in His rarest moods. It wouldn't take more than an hour with this man to appreciate what I am trying to put across to you. God might have been trying to put together a flawless person. He had everything worked out. But just when he was about to put the brains into this creation of his, something must have happened that really pissed him off. Maybe His wife wanted him to take out the garbage or something along those lines. Something that involves stench, dirt and ya, plenty of garbage. Whatever it was, it made God forget all about the latest project he was working on, and stuff in garbage where the brains ought to have been.

No one had thus far understood why Jojo refused to play any sport other than fish-fish. He would tell anyone who would listen to him that it was a sport akin to water-polo but only without the water. No one knew why of all instruments that his parents offered to buy him, he opted for the cello. My deepest sympathies were with his roommate and everyone else who lived within fifty cello-lengths of him. Apart from these, he sang in his sleep and tripped nearly every time he went to the bathroom. Otherwise, he was a sound egg.

I ran into him on my very first day at the university. He had just tripped rather embarrassingly outside the common washroom, and I was the only bipedal soul around, so I had to help him back to his feet. "Thanks man," he had smiled. The next thing I knew he had invited me to his room to hear him play the cello and I regret having lived those moments of my life. I tell people over and over again that the man ought to be arrested for torturing life around him, but they simply laugh and think I am kidding. A few months later, I had realized he was a sound egg. One only had to graciously decline to be his audience during his cello practice sessions and stay away from him when he got drunk and seemed to consider the world his 'fish-fish' stadium and every other human being his opposition. I know people who have been subject to sledging and spitting by him in such a state. There was even a guy who claimed Jojo had tried to stab him with a toothpick with shouts of "You shalt never triumph, you filthy traitor!!"

I would do well to inform readers that over the past few days, he had been falling in love with one of the Hussein twins. The only trouble was, he never managed to figured out which one. "They are so similar!" he used to cry with anguish whenever he spotted either of them. "That's the whole point," I had told him one day. "They are not twins without reason." He gave me a I-wish-I-had-a-toothpick-to-stab-you-with look. "Thanks a ton, Einstein."

"When are you ever going to figure out which one of them you like?" Teja had asked him exasperatedly. Jojo brushed his hair out of his face and said, "I am going to try my luck with both of them. Either one isn't bad at all, is she?" Teja merely shrugged and got back to polishing his guitar.

So when he had burst into my room, well almost, on that fateful day, my first impression was that it had to do with Jojo and the twins. He didn't let me down. It did turn out to be about his twin trouble. But before he took off on his epic narration, he took time off to frown at the book I had on my lap.

"What's that?"

"Oh, it's a book." I held the thing up so he could see it in clearer light.

"I know the darned thing is a book. What is it about?" He stepped into the room and collapsed on the chair next to my bed. Before I could raise a voice of protest, he had slipped off his sandals and laid his soiled feet upon the clean sheets.

"Ah, nothing great. The title says 'What women want and everything else under the sun". So from what I make of it, it's a book about everything." I glanced up to see Jojo twirling a Natraj pencil with his fingers and staring away at a pile of junk on my table.

"Hmm" he said rather plainly. I didn't blame him. He was not a man of books. Nothing thicker than distilled hydrogen could seep through to his brain.

The book was put away. "Howdy, then?"

He turned back to me with an expression that showed plain surprise at the presence of another human in the room. He didn't have his glasses on. He always thought they made him look geeky.

"Where are your glasses?"

For an answer, he felt his face with his fingers. "Oh! That's what has been wrong! I must have forgotten them back at my room." He paused for a moment. "Dude, you have to help me."

"Ah, shoot. What may I do for my good man today?"

"Harry," he said for that's what he liked to call me. "I kissed a girl."

Every man who speaks such a statement has a typical set of follow-up expressions that he chooses from. The eyes brighten up, the ears prick up and are alert for the oncoming praise or congratulations. The body is tensed and the grin never disappears. Even if the kiss wasn't as good as one had expected, one still smiles. But I was totally unprepared for the expression that Jojo chose to produce after he uttered his chosen words. The shoulders were loose, the face appeared dejected and there wasn't even a hint of a smile on his face. I began to wonder whether I had heard him right.

"You kissed a girl right?"

"Yeah." He was markedly looking away and the lower lip was bitten.

"What's with the sulking then?"

"Err, Harry..." He was unsure about where his feet were and the loose strap on his sandal seemed to attract a lot of his attention. "You remember the Hussein chick, right?"

"Ya of course, what about her."

"I kissed her."

"Sweet! Way to go man! I am all ears. Tell me about it! Oh, oh, which one, by the way?"

The enthusiastic air around me quickly faded away. His eye refused to meet mine and I noticed his hair seemed to be more of his face with every minute that passed.

"Oh shit, dude! Don't tell me!" I cried exasperatedly. "Don't tell me!!"

He looked up with a hopeful expression, like a lost dog. But his lip was still being chewed on. Nodding slightly, he spoke the fateful words.

"You got me, Harry. I have no idea which one I kissed."

We always have something or the other to report without being as desperate as India TV or the like. A lot has been happening around here. Here are the top headlines :

1. Baccha B wing aa gaya
Baccha Bhand has recently shifted to the B wing with his room mate, Diesel. The event met loads of appreciation from the residing B wingers. However, some persons seemed to be unhappy with the change. In retaliation to the move, they stole Diesel's mattress as a sign of dissent. As a result, Diesel has had to sleep on the floor for the past two days. He complained to the local authorities saying, "Humaare Angrez desh mein hum kabhi zameen par nahi sote the."

Bhand, however, was very happy with the proceedings and seemed to be inert to the mattress being stolen from him room. "Bas hum B wing aa gaye hain. Gadda kho jaana toh bahut choti cheez hai." he said, much to the annoyance of his roommate.

2. B 108 is now 19 ptr room
That's right. Dassi has shifted to B wing as well. With his advent, B 108 is now officially the most intelligent room in the hostel. The prev highest was Warden's room at 18.4 ptr. B 108 with 19 pts, has taken over that repute. His shifting process, unfortunately, was without event.

3. Mega thief on loose
Rumors are flying around about a super thief who walked into a hostel room by breaking the lock on its door and stole some Rs. 3000. How far this is true is unknown to the TNNU team, but we will keep updating you as soon as we hear more news.
Btw, the hostel supervisor and warden were on high alert and were seen patrolling the hostel in the morning.

4. Baba - the most important person
In a recent survey held in B wing, Baba was voted the most important personality of the wing. Last year's winner was Sardy, but due to unfortunate circumstances, he had to shift to new areas. On a different note, Baba has also been awarded 'The most promising politician' award because of his tremendous ability to campaign.

5. Last but not the least
Popliss has been rumored to have been dating an RI partner. He was heard defending himself saying, "Arey RI means Relationship Internship na?". Aside from that, he has decided to play it cool and deny all allegations. He roommate , Raj11, has been complaining about Popliss's sudden voracious appetite for romantic music (Especially Enrique), a sudden spurt in his carrom and 29 skills, and a sudden inability to sleep at night.

That is all the news for today. Do visit our website http://fieldleftblank.blogspot.com/ for more news updates.

[Continued]

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It was nearly dawn break when Bhand staggered out of Cancer's bar. A balmy breeze made him pull his coat tighter around him. He had barely managed to reach the road when he saw a figure blocking his way. Jhalla Baba was in his police uniform as usual, with a scowl upon his face. He was thoroughly unimpressed with the bacchanalian body stumbling towards him.

"Stop!", he ordered. "What makes you think you can wander in B wing in that state?". His voice was baleful, if anything.

Bhand flinched at the sight of this pain-in-the-ass in human form. "Leave me alone" he muttered with whatever little consciousness he had left. "I am just going home". He drew himself to a somewhat erect position and made an audacious lunge to get away from the policeman. Unfortunately, his attempt was balked by a stone wall he didn't seem to have noticed. Rather augustly, he crashed into the wall, nose-first and collapsed onto the ground. Baba smirked and walked up to the eagle-spread Bhand on the pavement. He grinned avuncularly at the figure on the ground. "Up to your usual mischief?" he asked him. "I know who you are, and I know how to handle banal folks like yourself" said baba kneeling down next to Bhand, who was by getting really pissed with baba's austere behaviour.

"You are the wannabe B winger, Bhand, aren't you?" said baba again, and allowed himself a smile. "Why do you keep coming to the B wing? It is simply an atrophy of your precious time, I tell you. You would be smart if you took my astute advice when I say, 'go back to your village'. But then of course, it's all up to you. If you choose to hang around in my wing, you'd better be careful. One wrong step, one sign of beset, and I'll be breathing down your neck like an angry pack of bloodhounds and make sure you atone for your crimes." Bhand had heard baba belabor his points before. It was a shame he was beholden to listen to policemen. All their badinage were not good for his temper at all.

Baba was blah-blahing away as usual. Bhand couldn't make sense of what he was saying. He seemed to have transcended into a beatific, bardic state. For all that Bhand cared, it was no more than a verbal barrage to his interests. He held up a hand in front of baba's face and balked his attempts at philosophy. "I beseech you to stop." he said finally, when his voice had been restored. "Such besmirched gibberish is not behoove for this moment, officer. I shall consult you at my leisure some other time when I feel like being beguiled. Unit then, with a hand shake and a beneficent word, I shall take my leave. You have beleaguered me enough for tonight."

Baba looked like an awl had been driven through his testicles. He began to belie Bhand's statement, but the latter had already got up to leave and before baba could protest, Bhand had made a beeline for the alley's sole exit.

[To be continued...]

I had nothing better to do. I have been reading Barron's GRE wordlists and I keep getting astounded by the sheer number of words I have never come across. So I here's an article that contains numerous words from the first 4 word lists of Barron. If you have gone through wordlists 1 to 4, it could be great practice to read the article and recollect the meaning you have mugged up so far. ;) [At some places I might have tried too hard to insert a word from the list, it might be fairly obvious]. I hope some of you might find it useful. I've bolded the words from the list to make it easier for you guys ;)

Do comment if you liked it. I'll think of writing more such articles.


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A long time ago, there was a kingdom far-far away from everywhere. The very existence of this secret land was known to but oh so precious few and the much aggrandized aestheticism of the kingdom was whispered from ear-to-ear as allegories of the time. The aborigines named this mystical land 'B Wing' or Beta-Wing (They were inspired by Sci-Fi would be my guess).

Over this great land ruled the mighty Virus (yes, mighty in every aspect). He was an amulet to the citizens, and in their own amorous fashion, they had adorned him with an appellation that was to serve as an allusion to the ardor they had for him. "Arbiter" they called him and it was an apotheosis in itself. He was seen as the bearer of peace, the messiah as it were. He was ever willing to absolve mistakes if he was convinced it was adventitious.

Into this kingdom that was agog with happiness and joy, came Bhand. He had absconded from the abutting village and he had abstruse adulation for the kingdom that lay beyond the realm of his own. It wasn't as if he hadn't been admonished about the dangers that may lie in entering the kingdom in the dead of the night. Many a friend had grown tired of adjuration. Despite the ambivalence, Bhand decided to chance his arm and steal into the borders of Virus's empire. The tales he had heard were too alluring to resist. For you see, Bhand live in a 'dry' village, if you know what I mean.

Walking quickly, he stopped at a bar near an apothecary's signboard. Cancer was tending the bar, cleaning up some ancillaries at the end of an arduous day. Bhand strode up to the counter and slammed his fist on the table. Cancer turned around, rather surprised at the anachronism of the visitor.
"Dont just f**k around" shouted Bhand amok. "Hand me a beer you cheap bartender!"
Cancer raised an eyebrow at the animadversion but said nothing and slid a bottle across the counter.
Bhand spoke nothing until his thirst was assuaged. Askance, he thumped the bottle back on the table. Assaying Cancer with an apathetic eye, he asked for another round. Cancer was used to such abusive behavior. For a moment he abstained himself, but then spoke as he handed the stranger another beer.

"From what I apprehend, you don't seem to be from this town."

"Well I am, you may have never seen me, yeh filthy scum."

Cancer was perhaps affronted by this acrimonious attitude. Maybe it was time to show this stranger that people could see through his artifice. People of this kingdom were far from asinine.

"What's with the antagonism?" , asked Cancer once Bhand's heavy huffing and puffing had abated. "It is you who is in an abject condition. You would do well to be altruistic."

"I don't need any of your wisdom, thank you. You can do well to hand me another beer with some alacrity. Its the only anodyne I need."

"Are you an anarchist or something?"

"Nay. Far from it. You could call me an apostate" said Bhand between hiccups.

Cancer was apprehensive of Bhand's state as he consumed one beer after another. Maybe at the apogee of the night, this man could be far from ambulatory. The amoral had to be done.

"Just get up and leave. You are getting too drunk and its too late in the night." said Cancer, who seemed to have abdicated his duties and was now sitting on a stool himself. "It's not that I abhor you, but I think I have to abrogate you for today."

With a rather weary nod, Bhand disappeared through the arcade and into the sleepy night.

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PS: Of course, I couldn't cover all the words, there were too many. But I've tried to leave out only those words that are fairly common in our vocabulary.

I have enlisted what I believe to be the top ten mysteries of the years I have been in college.

10. What meebo means when he says 'wahaan', 'woh' and 'us din'.

9. What Saaki does all day.

8. Who reported the booze gang.

7. Who is the 'non-flushing' group using our washrooms.

6. Who is the person who eats chips, biscuits etc in the third Bathroom on A wing side.

5. Who is that eco-friendly personality who turns off the water cooler on the hottest days.

4. Who is the person who repeatedly locks the wing's doors from the outside

3. Where does Randi dissappear every evening and every sunday.

2. What does Chidiya do in the RC.

1. Who made blade an OP.

Will you forgive me for what I have done,
though it were done before?
For what I've become?

Will you forgive the place that's true to me
-that I call home
where I am meant to be?



Would you heal the pain I have indoor?
but it wont suffice,
for I have more.

Would you lend me the power to see
what my tomorrow
has in store for me?

"Bai kahaan hai yaar!" cried Naks from somewhere inside the bedroom. It was well past 1pm and Naks was accustomed to being woken up by the bai early in the morning at 10. Nigs was awake though (Somewhat). He was lounging in the living room on the make-shift beds that lay there. He opened half an eye when he heard Naks's voice, but didn't bother to reply. It was all part of the charm of the hideout. He turned over on the bed to see Naks stumble into the room coughing his brains out.

"Bai kahaan hai yaar?" Naks repeated, rather uselessly.
"Arey why are you asking me? You took her phone number na? Call your darling bai up and ask her where she is for yourself.", Nigs mumbled from between the folds of sheets.

Naks groaned slightly as he settled down on the bed next to Nigs. He coughed loudly again and almost puked. "You know what?", he said, turning to a Nigs who was desperately trying to get some sleep. Nigs uttered a dissapproving grunt that Naks took to be a sign of interest. He went on, "You remember that girl I had been hitting on? You thought she was out of my league na? Too sophisticated for me. Ha ! Guess what? She is really beginning to show interest now. She even gave me her phone number. Look." He shoved his phone in Nigs's face. Nigs uttered a monotonic 'hmm' to satisfy his roommate and turned away again.

"Where is the bai yaar?"

Nothing could have pleased Nigs more than a sucker-punch in Naks face. Instead he replied, possibly for the last time, "Arey you have her number na? Call her, you idiot." Naks was amazed by the enlightening idea. "Arey badhiya baat kahi tumne, Nigs. I'll call her after I brush." He stumbled to his feet and coughed rather horrendously. "Hang on," *cough* "I'll brush-" *cough* "-and call her." Scratching his newly shaved head, he headed off to the bathroom.

Naks's phone rang next to Nigs. Any onlooker would have told you, it was the last nail in the coffin. A sleep-deprived Nigs is very capable of toppling any Most-wanted list on his day. It was the bai. "Main aaj nahi aa rahi," said her voice on the phone. "Main bimaar hoon".
"Theek hai.", said Nigs smartly. "Koi baat nahi". He clicked the phone shut.

"Who was it?", came Naks's question to which Nigs had no hesitation in replying. "It was our good friend Mika. He will come a bit late today."

"Oh, ok" said Naks from the bathroom and began humming a very irritating tune. Back in the living room, it was action time. It was really simple action though. Not fit for the script of a thriller movie. For you see, it was merely a matter of swapping numbers on a cell-phone. The bai and the sophisticated girl had now exchanged phonebook personalities.

Nigs placed the phone back on the bed as Naks entered in the room again. "Lao, give me the phone." he said, but picked it up himself when Nigs failed to respond. Nigs turned around in his bed to satisfy his now-aroused curiosity as Naks dailed the bai's number stored on his cellphone. Nigs grinned as he heard the phone ring at the other end.

"Hello", said Nakul as someone answered the phone.
"Hi, Naks!" came the rather excited and accented reply. Naks raised an eyebrow. He never knew that his bai was an angrez.

"Aap ghar nahi aayin?", he inquired, rather puzzled.
"What?" came the equally, if not more, puzzled reply. "Why would I come to your place?"

Naks stared at the phone for a second and then at Nigs. He covered the mouthpeice and hissed, "Nigs, did you know our bai knows english?" Nigs gave a broad smile and shook his head.
Naks got back to the phone rather confidently. Maybe this bai was pretty hot after all. He always had the hots for her, but had somehow been turned off by the lack of sophistication in her. Now this was an altogether new perspective of the bai.

"Arey aap yahaan pe kaam karti hain na? Flat 216? Aur aaj subah aap nahi aayin?"
"What are you saying, Naks? I don't work for you."

Nigs was shivering with excitement. He was tremendously pleased with the way this was heading.

"Kya baat kar rahin hain aap? Phir kaise kamaati hain?". You could have pushed Nigs over with a leaf. He couldn't believe Naks was dumb enough to ask such a question.

"What?! To hell with you! What work do I do there?"
"Arey aap hi toh yahaan saaf safayi kartee hain! Bhool kaise gayin?"
"OH SHIT! Naks, you a***ole. You think I am some kaam waali bai? Go to hell. [Hangs up]"

Naks stared at the phone again. Nigs was struggling to control his laughter. Naks finally turned to Nigs and said, "Yaar, our bai is hot! And she is playing hard-to-get."

Ramlal is just too common a name. It was the first thing that came to my mind when I read his name-tag. I leant back and allowed his bright orange cloth to blanket me from the neck down. Now that I thought of it, I didn't know any other Ramlal. I wonder I thought it was common. The 14-inch tv rested precariously on the mantlepiece overhead. Maybe customers were not supposed to watch tv. It was only for the men at work I figured.

I looked around while Ramlal went into the back corner of the shop to fumble inside a drawer. I, however, was confined to that barber chair. My view from that humble perch was to be my world for the next few minutes. In vain, I tried to get a better view of the tv. The audible commentary was drawing my curiosity to that little box. It doesn't matter if you are the most extraordinary person on earth. When you are in India, cricket seeps into your viens. It is simply impossible to stay away from it. A few seconds of struggle later, I withdrew to my fate. My watching tv was not meant to be.



Ramlal walked back slowly, staring at the tv. His open mouth revealed a rather unhealthy paan-chewing habit. He put the final nail in the coffin by pushing my head downwards. So much for my attempts to watch tv. I drifted into the open-eyed slumber that I so often use, whether in class or when studying. It was only when Ramlal shouted "Arey yaar!" that I woke up. The rather excited commentator informed me of a run-out. Ramlal was cursing under his breath. "Inko khelna hi nahi aata hai", he muttered through clenched teeth. I silently prayed for his anger to be not reflected in my hair-cut. I decided to calm him, even if it was just a bit.

"Rajasthan ke fan ho kya?", I inquired politely, referring to the Rajasthan royals team that was batting. "Haan yaar" came the reply as I felt his scissors furiously snipping through my hair. "Yeh log yahaan se bhi haar jayenge". The instrument in his hand was gathering speed. My internal alarm went off. Something had to be done soon, or the end would not be pretty. "Arey tension kyon le rahe ho? Abhi toh bahut batting baaki hai. Yusuf bhi baaki hai na."

That seemed to have done the trick. The metal blades came together with relative ease now. "Haan, woh bhi hai", he said grinning at me through the mirror. "Dekhte hain". He followed his words, staring up at the tv while his tool lazily cut through my hair.

"Ok." I thought to myself. "Let's weigh the options. Furious barber vs Blind barber." In the end I decided to let the blind barber do his work. After all he was a professional. I glanced at him in the mirror. He stared open-mouthed at the tv, at Yusuf who had just come in to bat. He seemed to be least bothered about the goddam customer occupying the chair in front of him. I figured I am really bad at all this. I should be the last person to try and talk sense into people.

God must have intended Baroda to be His hot oven but instead thought it would be rather fun if he made people live there instead. If that is his opinion of humor, I strongly condemn it. In the crackling, pain-in-the-ass high 40's this is possibly the driest heat in the whole of Gujarat. At least Ahmedabad has its Sabarmati and Surat has its Narmada. Baroda has a naam-ke-waaste Sursagar lake that is more famous for the pav-bhaji on its shores than for its water. In this sweltering heat, I headed to my nearest ICICI bank to undertake the rather shitty procedure of paying my college fees.

For those whose are not from our magnificent institute (heavy sarcasm), the procedure requires us to deposit a DD of the amount and a special form along with it. It some weird collaboration they have established with ICICI bank. But it seems they forgot to inform the employees of the bank about this great treaty. A lot of you by now would have already begun to snigger at my plight with the mercury hitting 48 and with this seemingly alien 'form' at the local ICICI bank.

Ever had a bad day? It is the day when you are tired as hell and just want your task to be gotten over with and you are faced by possibly the dumbest clerk on the face of the planet. Yes, there he was. Holding my form in one hand and the other hand scratching lazily at a region in the proximity of his groin.



"What is this?", he asked me. I awoke from the half-slumber I had drifted into while he had been assessing the form. "It's a form to submit my college fees.", I said, although I was pretty confident it was going to be of no help.

"Toh mujhe kyon de rahe ho?". I swear to God, he was lucky that there was nothing blunt and heavy within my arm's reach that I could clobber him with. I counted to ten under my breath. It had never been so painstakingly difficult. "I am supposed to submit it here. See the ICICI bank ka sign on top? This is ICICI bank right?"

For a few seconds he stared at the sign. I half expected him to hold to the light to verify its validity or whatever. "Sahi baat hai.", he said, most unnecessarily. "Bada special college hai kya tumhaara?" He laughed at his own joke and glanced at me as if beckoning me to join him. I gave him a sort of a sneer in reply. He was too caught up in the humor of his joke to notice. After what seemed like a year in DoTA time, he got up and leant over to the cubicle to his left. "Aanu suu karvaanu?", he asked the clerk next to him. "Thappa lagayi de ane student copy paachi aap", came the deft reply. May the stars bless that clerk.

Giving me a rather sheepish smile, he stamped the form with surprising dexterity for a person so slow in the head and handed the student copy back to me.

Slit from the throat to the top 'f your
chest and your fcking, flaying arms
See darkness quiver before your eyes
Watch death consume you before you fall

Feel me crush your broken bones,
Smell my ruthless breath upon your neck
You're my fcking trophy (I'll hang you up)
You are my fcking corpse !
Now diee !


So tell me, who is your Fcking God now, Mortal
Who's your fucking God?
Where's the God who kept you alive, Scum...
Where's that fucking God now?

Shut up and die !!
Don't look around, don't whimper
Just die !!


Never saw it coming, did you?
Never saw it pass you by
Never saw me kneel now, did you?
Never thought you'd die ... At my hands !

I am not kidding. The temperature here is in the mid 40s. It is about one in the afternoon. The air is still and dry. And outside my house is a baraat in full swing. The noise, as usual, is unbearable. How these people are managing to dance in the sweltering heat to that sickening music beats me. There is a whole bunch of kids and adults alike, dressed in the most suffocating attire you can imagine, dancing away to "beats waale" songs.

Dance Gujju Dance. Live Gujju Live. So much for that.

As I rest peacefully at home, there lie before me a host of articles that have been demanded. I shall list out the demands without naming the demandees. Readers are most welcome to criticize a certain topic. Please feel free to use the comments (I never moderate any comments ;) )

"Semiotics of ChiChi"
"The Battle of the Booze gang"
"What love means to me"
"Who are the welders?"
"Is BTF the real MATKA warriors?"
"How to write a good article" (I dont know why this has been demanded. I am a very ordinary writer, I assure you.)
"The tragedy that is Nakul Gupta"

I found the last topic extremely hillarious when it was brought to my notice (I am sure many you did too). So, I shall endeavour to fulfil the request as soon as possible. Until then, have fun. And ya, fakeipplplayer rocks.

I've just realized how difficult it is to come up with something to write that is non-controversial, original and non-boring. Each time I think of something to write, I realize that somebody, somewhere has already written about it, and has written way better than I can ever dream of writing. Take my comedy scripts for example. At some point or the other in the plot, they seem to run into one of P.G. Wodehouse's works, and not even in my wildest dreams can I think of penning down words that can equal his standards. I drift off mainstream comedy, and I run into either lack of originality or into words that are better off not said. If I quit comedy altogether, I am downright boring. One of my friends once told me, "If you want people to read what you write, write something humorous because honestly, you are not good at anything else." This was after he read my article on "eLitmus" on this blog.

All this in the midst of my exams, I must add. Now that my exams are over, I've got time to kill, stories to tell and people to cheer up. The week prior to exam results is by far the most cheerless week (It even beats the week just before the exams in its tense silence, nervous breakdowns and sweaty palms).

"What use is it? Why are we living? We will simply die, and no one will think of us. There will be a portrait of you or me up on the wall, with a fresh garland for about a week. After that, people will simply walk past, and even the garland would be a plastic one." - Goggi, two hours after the SEn exam.

A couple of days back, I made a feeble attempt to revive the Music Room. The music room, before this attempt, did not have a mike. Without it, there is absolutely no way a vocalist can be heard over the din of the drums and the electric guitars. (Not that the mike is of too great a help either.) I approached Funkk, our technical head for a mike. He was genuinely surprised that there was none in the music room. I explained to him - "Kya karein yaar, yehi izzat milti hai humein yahaan". Any other onlooker would have clapped and sobbed his heart out at that dialogue, but Funkk bhai (a.k.a. Hitler) was unmoved of course. Half an hour of convincing later, I procured a mike for 2 hours. From now on, I will need a formal mail to the Cultural Committee each time I want a mike. Very convenient indeed. I am so proud of the system we have in place.

Then again there was the pre-placement exam. An unbelievable 15 out 200 students passed (That's right, this is no typo). Alright, if you were the placement guy, what would you make of that? I could think of the following:
1) The test sucked. There is no way such a catastrophic result could come to hand.
2) The students suck. There is no way these morons could have made it through AIEEE in the first place.
3) The college sucks. It has managed to make dumb-asses out of the quite brilliant students that entered the institute.

I think they have gone for option 2, judging by the mail that has been sent to the students. I might have agreed if it weren't for a few facts -
-The only 50 pointer of our batch (10 pointer in 5 semesters) did not make it through.
-Out of the 15 students that passed, 7 were CAT-Trainees (was this a placement test or a CAT test?).
-The most brilliant persons from the Gaon (a.k.a. raj11 and Rangbaaz) did not make it through.
-Virus made it through.

What more do I say? It is not the students that have failed; The system has failed.

I feel the need to thank some of the 2005 batch guys personally, so here goes :

I would like to thank

Chito - For being my first inspiration in college.
Sid Lal - For showing me, even Entelechy is possible with sheer dedication.
Anushree - For showing me, there are high-flying people who are humble as well.
Camo - For showing me that a Dota game can be won with great leadership even if the opp is much stronger.
Abhinav Krishna - For showing me writers can be pretty hip as well.
Rohan - For showing me how conveniently one can run away with prize money without giving a treat.
Kanni - For convincing me how valuable a WOW account is.
Rohit Bhagya - For showing me, you dont have to be cool to be a dude.
Hummer - For some seriously imba career advice, and for convincing me that Ganja is not good for health.
Glaze - For showing me, I am not as thin as I think.
Bssr - For the rather ironic statement in my first game as Techies - "Nice suicide re PoPe"
Charan - For telling me my ecampus password in the middle of a Dota game
x6 - For being the first andhrite dota player to talk to me in hindi when he asked ,"Ghar ja raha hai kya?"
Crypt - For showing me that you dont have to be bad at studies if you are a gamer.
Zephyr - For re-introducing me to AOE and for all his tips in the game.
Logan - For being the first person to kick me out of an AOE server.
Goon - For the statement "Shit! Cancer has been around so long I thought he is in my year"
Keeks - For showing me how popular one can be by being a noob at Dota
Anil Kishore - For being the neighbour I talked with only on DC.
Termi - For being a truly inspirational CS to Dota story.
Moor - For being one of the few people who knew me by face before knowing me as Cancer.

I might have missed out a few people. I'll keep adding to the list.

Okay, I admit, we should have put a lot more thought into this by now. But we are admittedly a rather confused lot and we definitely need food for thought.

'Welders' is the name of our band suggested by Bhagwanji and upheld by our drummer, Wrath. It was also rather sarcastically suggested that we wear welder masks whenever we appeared on stage for a gig. With the 6th semester heavy on our hands and our brains running out of creativity, we haven't really bothered to argue about the name for our band. Hopefully, in our last year of college, the biggest improvements would be - a good name for the band and a decent bass guitarist.

Our college and especially our batch has an explosion of guitarists and vocalists I must say. Thankfully, two of the best are in our band. We also possess the sole drummer of our batch. Violah Wrath! As for the vocalists, it was a rather random toss-up, and somehow I managed to find my way in. Nearly a year since we came together. A couple of us have already considered dropping out for a better career in music. All those dreams have been laid to rest for now though.

Where have reached? What do we play? Tricky questions indeed. It is our dream to play some serious Thrash Metal with hints of Alternative Metal. The guys with the instruments are upto it. We only need a touch of co-ordination and a few ounces of practise to rise to decent levels of metal performances. My vocals are still lacking though. It is hard to maintain the raspy voice over the duration of half a dozen songs. I guess I am the weakest cog in the machine for now ;).

Of course there is a missing gear - the bass guitarist. There are so many people who play the guitar in our batch that we thought it would never be a problem. But it has turned out to be. There is yet to be a person who has seriously and with great intent picked up the bass guitar. Until we would probably have to manage without it.

What to play is probably the biggest dilemma. It is very hard to find songs that each one of us is capable of performing. There are songs that have extremely difficult solos. There are songs whose vocals are totally beyond me or UT. There are songs with prominent bass. And there are songs with incredible drums. We have to carefully avoid such songs and pick a playlist. For now, we seem to have settled on some simpler songs of Megadeth, Metallica, Judas Priest and Nirvana. We hope to do a bit of COB, Lamb of God and Arch Enemy sooner than later. Let's see how that works out. Also the original needs a lot of working on. It is tougher that most people think, to come up with a quality original.

I am sure we would greatly appreciate it if you guys could suggest a name for the band for a start ;).