The Class

From Anil, the sleeping Tantrik masquerading as the cynical Telugu to Shiti, the ambitious lover of Ash pics unsure of the path God had chosen for her ; from Roerick, the lone Aryan to Shayan, the dreamer; from the understated Anshul to the exuberant Shagun- all became the variegated hues of the kaleidoscope that was PGPCM-07. These fallen angels were the chosen few that were stifled out of the herds of confused applicants, many of whom filled MICA as an afterthought, unsure of where it stood in the spectrum of institutes projected as the quickest route to mammon and fame.Palash and Kacchnar, two of the eight hostels named after evergreen flower bearing trees, became the cells of these IMC monks for the first year of their initiation into the intricacies of sophisticated faffing. Palash was the cave for the denizens of Mars and Kacchnar the nest of damsels from Venus. It began with 77 students- 40 from the fairer sex. A girl who was a married model left soon after ragging; Arvind and LS Rohit left in the first term. I was the seal of the backsliders- the last to quit. Nobody left the hallowed lands after me. My time came towards the end of third trimester.