ilani has one apparent problem - connectivity. Situated
200 kilometres from any major city, we live in a world
of our own. We’re like Atlantis – we just haven’t disappeared
(yet ); reaching Pilani is an ordeal and accomplishment on its
own. Add to that the sweltering heat and insect armies, one
would wonder why people would even attempt to come here.
Our meticulous calculations and considerations indicate that
the above factors, accompanied by increased indolence, will
soon result in a fall in participation. Let us paint you a
picture.
It starts off with the Sri Lankan contingent refusing to come,
forcing us to drop the ‘international participation’ tag. Before
we know it, we’re making the faculty play just to increase
participation and i-BOSM replaces our slowly declining
sports meet. A nother five years, and people get bored with
this set-up. Slowly, teams disintegrate, and the students of
this illustrious institute settle into a sad, sedentary lifestyle.
Sounds gloomy? You ain’t read nothing yet.
What follows: the institute withdraws funding for the fest
and stops giving out sports equipment. The venues lie in a
state of disaster: the swimming team has a bathtub for
practice (sans the rubber duckies); the basketball court is up
for auction and the ragtag team uses a sandpit. BOSM
becomes a thing of folklore, discussed in secret, with several
conspiracy theories of an underground sports fest being
revived.
Don’t get your knickers in a knot – half of this is meant to be
a joke.
There’s always a good side to everything. But, chuck that for
now.
The definition of sports gets skewed to the point that gaming
becomes the prime attraction. Any and all strenuous activities
are carried out by robots and drones. Sweat, blood and
physical injuries get the fest banned and sued for human
endangerment. Medals are mailed to the respective winners
because organising a valedictory would entail too much work.
It hasn’t rained yet. Say that to yourself again, slowly. I’m
not sure what that
spells for times
ahead, but it isn’t
going to be good.
There’s no point
discussing vague
probabilities of a
future BOSM if
the world
gives up
and just
decides
to end
itself.
T h e
Mayans
could
have been
a few years
late.
We
BITSians, of all
people, should be
the last ones to
frown
upon
delays.
Let’s dial back the pessimism a little, shall we? Things
in ’42 might actually be peachy and uppity, for all we
know.
People could realise the intrusion of technology in
our daily lives, and would celebrate BOSM in the true
spirit of the celebration of sports. BOSM could
actually become a better respite than Oasis. The
compatibility and contrast of technology and sport
would provide the richest experience to all
participants. Muggle Quidditch would be played on
actual hovering surfboards, with an automated flying
snitch. New games and sports would come up –
probably, holographic Star Wars (with actual light
sabers) and Matrix cosplays. In fact, this article
would probably have been written from a
comfortable, air-conditioned, five-star suite, instead
of the dilapidated, moth-eaten tent currently housing
the talented writers of this issue (ingratiating
fundraiser smile).
BOSM would become a bigger and better fest, with a
plethora of events. More participation would give
Pilani a railway station; expanding it a little might
even give us a domestic airport. All right, that may be
stretching it a bit.
The only hope is that BOSM does change, ever so
slightly, in whatever way possible. Stagnation should
be our only enemy. Change is what keeps anything
and everything alive and kicking. So, hope for a
different BOSM next year and keep your eyes peeled
to the sky.