This dedicated section has been brought into effect in a bid to make the articles more opinionated - a few articles every issue that serve as radars for the ever-changing
scene on campus. These are aimed at bringing to light the necessities of students and may serve as eye openers.
Orwell opines that nothing in the history of mankind
happens that has not happened before or will not happen
again from the smallest trivialities to the biggest of
revolutions. Whilst Orwell’s perception of revolutions may or
may not find many takers, a few from the distinguished
BITS alumni hold the same opinion of happenings around
campus today. We at the press, present to you an old
BITSian’s effort to hold up a mirror to campus life as we
know it and probably assure us the storms will pass, as they
always do.
would write the new
room number in the
remaining space on
the label. And when
that was full up, he
would work his way
to the reverse of the
collar flap and other
surreptitious places
where the number
could remain hidden.
The late 80s. Those were times when the only
Unfortunately, if it happened to be a light-coloured
outsiders who could boldly walk into a wing were
shirt, the number would show through the collar –
the holy trinity - the creator, a cake man who made
and we would be marked for life.
and sold bakery products, the destroyer, the postie
who helped us kill the blues by bringing letters from
home, and the protector, the dhobi, who
At times, the dhobis delayed their bi-weekly visits
safeguarded our modesty by bringing our clothes
by a couple of days, which left the best laid plans just in time for the next day.
and 2000 BITSians - in tatters. The last straw was
Of the trio, the cake man vanished because of a lack when everyone in the wing ran out of clothes and
of business and the postie began to leave the letters there was no one left to pile on from. At such
in the mess, so by a process of elimination, it was times, emergency measures included washing
the dhobi who finally endeared himself to us. (The clothes overnight and spreading them in the room,
only thing that stopped him from becoming our hoping that the fan and the sweltering heat would
chaddi buddy was our mortal fear of the dhobi's do the trick.
itch.)
But then, one had to invest in things like detergents
and clothes brushes for such activities. And that
was how the ventilator of almost every room came
Our first year was the most dramatic in terms of the
to have a medium-sized cardboard carton of
Washermen's Wars - a territorial battle was on, with
washing powder - a lifesaver in case of the dhobis’
dhobis competing with one another for allotment
ditch. It was only then that we understood what
of bhawans and wings. Fresh from home, we felt
Lalitaji had been telling us all along on Doordarshan
like orphans stranded in the middle of a desert,
– “Surf ki khariddhari mein hi samajdhari hai.”
forsaken and forgotten. And the very thought of
having a bunch of lokis fighting over us brought (L Suresh, from the ‘87 batch, is the author of
tears to our eyes. As the territory wars intensified, ‘The Pilani Pilgrims.’)
one dhobi would come in before another and take
Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the
away clothes from a wing. And the designated
author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and
dhobi would then raise a hue and cry about it to the
should not be attributed to, The Fine Print.
Union.
Sometimes, a specific shirt would mysteriously go
missing and would find its way back after a week or
so. The rumour back then was that one of the
dhobis or his friends had a date and was in
desperate need of something good to wear. Of
course, it could never be proved and we had to
console ourselves that even if it was a disgusting
thing to happen, we were inadvertently playing
cupid and helping a couple in love.
As we progressed to senior years, our room
numbers began to play havoc with our couture. The
label on the inside of the shirt – just below the
collar - was the place where one's room number
was written in indelible black. Come the second
year, that number wouldn't come off, and the dhobi
WRITE FOR US!
Hate mail or fan mail, we welcome all kinds of
feedback.
You could even write for us in the future.
The Fine Print takes the pleasure of inviting
opinionated entries for this section from the
BITSian junta - articles that dwell on issues
relevant to our campus and its residents that
you think matter and are worth sharing.
Your entries could also feature on our webite:
epc-bitspilani.com
Drop us a message on FB - ‘ The Fine Print
Online’ or shoot a mail to
[email protected].
N. B.: No sentiments are targeted here. This comic is purely catering to humour.