The Fine Print Issue 5, November 2013 | Page 6

Psenti Speak to. The countless playlists and mixed tapes that litter my room and my hard disk serve as a useful indicator of the fact that I am not who I was three years ago. Karthik ALDYAN Manickam Just Breathe “Without music to decorate it, time is just a bunch of boring production deadlines or dates by which bills must be paid.” The cons of this method? Any A7 student can tell you how ridiculously inefficient that is (O(n) at best - and that's the extent to which CP2 has had an impact on me). The pros? I now have a larger-than-average collection of brilliant music that doubles as the most intense nostalgia device possible. It's impossible to spend an hour listening to Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles and not be reminded of early morning shenanigans during a deserted Diwali weekend. Cosmia by Joanna Newsom will always send me on a nostalgic trip to first year nights spent gaming in lieu of studying (big mistake in hindsight, but I guess things always work out eventually). Bulls on Parade by Rage Against the Machine and Monster by Kanye West hold memories of the auditorium that match their intensity with their contrast. Music had a hand in binding not only the events of BITS but the people of BITS to me as well. Never again will I find in abundance so many people to discuss and fight and quarrel with over something as trivial as if M.I.A. has more artistic integrity than Arctic Monkeys (hint: she does), or if Pearl Jam are the greatest band in the history of the world or not (hint: they are). 3 AM will never be the same after this. Pilani has this unique propensity to warp all perception of time, in a way that no other location can match. I am distinctly aware of the fact that I have less than 22 nights left on campus, and yet I feel as though I have hundreds left to fritter away solving crosswords at ANC with a motley crew of friends, acquaintances and passers-by. I know I have less than 7 days of classes left to (attempt to) attend, but that doesn't stop me from skipping said classes under the assumption that I can attend later to make up for it. There's only one (worthwhile) show left in the auditorium to go to, but I'm convinced that I'll be lugging heavy equipment and yelling at batch-mates and juniors for at least a handful more. I mentioned earlier that we will be passing out with a common tag but a vastly different experience. The same holds true not only amongst batches, but across them as well: you don't need a look at the curriculum to tell you that the experiences of the current first year batch will be vastly different from that of my own. To that end, I don't see the point in trying to pass on some generalized piece of fluffy advice from my lofty fourth-year position. BITSians are a resilient breed, after all. I would, however, like to end my musings with the following bit of counsel that seems to hold true regardless of situation: devour all the music you can; listen, keep listening, and never stop listening. There's too How best to measure the passage of time here, then? How best to remind oneself that much amazing stuff out there to listen to, and life's always better three and a half years have passed? And more importantly, how best to retain the information of those years; not the book-derived information, but the memories and incidents To that end!: and events that shaped our time here and ensured that by leaving we share the same tag, Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl - Broken Social Scene but not even remotely the same experience? When the Levee Breaks - Led Zeppelin Pictures work, but then pictures have always been too nailed down for my liking: the Bend the World - Thermal and a Quarter details of the subject of the photograph are fixed, and warp any memories associated with Pinball Wizard - The Who them. Besides, DoPy are never around when you really need them, and my hands are too Landslide - Smashing Pumpkins shaky to click anything worthwhile. Dead Leaves on the Dirty Ground - The White Stripes A diary would have been useful, but I've found that whereas another author's novel inSubterranean Homesick Blues - Bob Dylan vites you to explore a hitherto unknown world, a diary only serves to limit an existing Hey Joe - The Jimi Hendrix Experience one. Besides, that sort of thing requires a level of discipline that my CGPA can testify I Pride (In the name of love) - U2 don't have. I chose music. Don't laugh! Music worked, and continues to work wonders. It had the perfect balance of pretension and credibility to serve as my memory storage medium. Every instance of my life here has been associated, either consciously or unconsciously, with a song (or songs). Whether by virtue of said music being played in my vicinity at the time, or because of some odd lyric that struck my mind and forevermore linked itself with said event, I can trace my evolution through BITS by the music that I was listening Vishala Arya I hear train whistle. Someone said, “The time to board has come”. “No”, I replied, “you are but an unfinished dream of mine.” And it whistled again. 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