4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

-1-

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

-2-

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

4Play
The Official Magazine of Madhouse, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay

-3-

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Dedicated to
The Forever Enthu Madhouse Junta

-4-

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Contents
From the G.Sec

From the Editor

Six Days of Life Again

A Word of Wisdom from the Alumni

11

Sports Collage

12

Culturals Collage

13

Death is the Final Mercy

14

Ye Pyaar Nahi Hai Khel Priye

18

Kudos Korner #1 Sports

20

Kudos Korner #2 Culturals

21

Lukkha Corner

22

The Origin of Love

23

For All Thats Gone

28

Answers to Lukkha Corner

29

Maintenance Work Report

30

Hostel Awards

31

-5-

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

From the G.Sec.

What a year it has been! It brings me great joy, as
always, to be sharing the victories and lessons this
awesome year has gifted us. I would like to congratulate all
the H4 junta for being ever so enthusiastic throughout the
journey. Without the trademark enthusiasm (H4 Enthu)
it would not have been possible to achieve so well and in
so many diverse genres of cult, sports, as well as internal
hostel infra refurbishing.
Today we stand as proud winners of the Sports GC. Everyone is aware that we
have won by whooping lead in Sports, an achievement that comes after a period of 4
years! We have delivered a jaw dropping performance in Goonj and grabbed the
first standing in the overall Music GC. Our outstanding lit enthu junta has notched
the second prize in overall Lit GC, the best result in the past 4 years! And our
talented speakers have seized the third standing in the overall Speaking Arts GC, to
speak of a few amidst the vast number of unnamed achievers who walk the corridors
of H4 every day.
And last but not the least, H4, in its own way, rocks at PAF too! I would like
to extend hearty congratulations to the entire PAF teamprod, FA, dram, music, as
well as every H4ite who worked, juggling between PAF and acads, to sincerely make
our event unique and successful!
In conclusion I wish all the very best to all my fellow hostel-mates for all their
future endeavors. I wish you all great enthusiasm and unwavering spirit toward the
hostel, and for your life, hoping that the enthu and jasbaat Madhouse imparted unto
us continue to help us be cheerful and dedicated as we all walk our own unique way
through life, in the years to come.
Thank you. Regards,

Rahul Jain (Juicy)

Hostel General Secretary

-6-

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

From the Editor

Lo and behold! Another year comes to an end and the New Year
ushers in a brand new collection of our very own Madhouse chronicles.
The past year, as always, has seen remarkably
great achievements in numerous walks of
curricular, extra-curricular and of course, postcurricular activities. May it be an enviable GC
standing of H4 in the weightlifting GC, or a
fourthie cracking a whooping placement package,
or the super-enthu freshies notching up
commendably at the Freshiezza, H4 has always
been one of those few hostels which see such a
conglomerate of splendid achievements. Every
inmate has a share in this scintillating glory of the hostel, and its
uproarious spirits, even if it manifested in a heartfelt cheering (or a
heartless anti-cheering!) at one of the GCs. The driving impetus that the
bonhomie at H4 has given and continues to gives to its inmates has its own
innumerable wonders to tell.
This magazine, as always, is dedicated to this very indomitable spirit
of the H4 junta. Kudos!
Thank You. Cheers.

Sanket D. Patil,
Hostel Literary Arts Secretary

-7-

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Six Days of Life Again

"Sorry Sir, but me and my team, umm, we think we cannot help you any longer. Its
been a long time and"
"Sorry to cut you across doc, but there's no need to apologize. I knew its going to
happen someday, but, but, I didn't expect it to be this early."
There was no sign of fear on his face, just widened yellow eyes and a transparent smile
which everybody could see through.
He got up silently, and dusting off the place where he had been sitting, he walked
towards the exit, very much symbolic.
"Doc, I have a last question to you...."
Doctor Nishod, who'd been sitting with his palm stretched out onto his wrinkled, pale
face, as if he'd grown 15 years older during his past 10 minute minutes conversation
with this regular patient, now quickly glanced upon him and sat up attentively like a
boy called up by his mother who's about to leave home.
"How much time do I have?"
The doctor went dumb stricken for a moment. As if the air he breathed had just
collapsed inside. Inhaling in air and grasping all strength he could, he uttered"I'm not sure, but maybe, I think....... 6 days?"
Time stopped in the room, everything stood still as if life had ran out of them all.
Without a word and a look back, the patient walked out of the room, silently out of the
sight of his doctor and the Cancer Hospital he'd been visiting so much regularly for so
long!
He watched the patients waiting in line. Somehow he couldn't see their pain or feel their
agony as he did every time, except now. The hospital workers, with whom he'd gotten

-8-

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

so friendly the past few months waved at

him, but his stone-turned eyes saw nothing.
Silently, like a baby crawling and toddling
to nowhere, he walked out of the hospital.
As he walked on the pavements of this
endless road, it seemed to him as if his brain
had just revealed itself to him. Forgotten
memories, relationships whirled around his
thoughts after so long that it seemed they'd
hid from him since eternity to open up at
this very close. Exit. The approaching end.
Even though he felt unfascinated by them all, he still drowned closer and deeper into
them.

He remembered his first crush; everyone in his company was crazy over her. But she
went off with some guy who eventually got her dumped.
He remembered his mother, who'd left him at such a tender age to arrive at the destined
state that is due for his own arrival in 6 days time. He remembered her unforgettable
face, her eyes, her nose like his; everything of hers seemed so much warm as if she sat
here, right now, with him. The warmth that he still felt of the sparks of 5 years of his
brief appointment with his mother.
He also remembered his father, a person he would never forget, even after his death.
His father, who'd never made him feel lonely, never ever sad. He'd told him bedtime
stories, sung songs; yeah he was a good singer. They'd played cricket together, even
football, badminton, chess, and the best- 'Pillow Fights'!
He also remembered his sister, who'd kept their father nurtured for the last 7 years.
They'd always had lots of fun together. And since she was the elder one, she had always
cared for him. She was, and is, always a responsible, caring, and nice lady. Though her
love marriage got her divorced, she still led a life surrounded by joys, as if she attracted
happiness towards herself, and made everyone else's life a bed of roses!
Suddenly he glanced towards the moonlit sky, and remembered his friends, his
hometown, his home, his dreams that could never be fulfilled, and his memories that
could never be cherished. Everything now popped right in front of his eyes, and
everything around him seemed much prettier, happier, and colorful!
-9-

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

6 Days weren't too short to live. Life now seemed much lighter to him. He was elated,
happy again, relieved and freshened up by the memories that hid deep beneath him.
Ready, for this very moment to arrive.
6 Days wasn't too short span of time. Life could be relived in this span. He stood on the
corner of the road, and very symbolically, he walked towards the end of the road while
the church clock on his neared midnight.
"6 Days isn't a long time." he said to himself, "but I can relive my life in this span! He
was alive again, the minus inside him suppressed. He really wanted to relive his life in
this span.
After all, life is short, but truly beautiful!
He walked towards the other end of the road, in a hope to cross it and reverse his life's
direction. In a hope to give his life a new path. In a hope to live the life bestowed on him
by his memories....
But all of a sudden he heard loud horns and screeches and brakes being applied to some
heavy vehicle. The hounds for him seemed to be coming from the screams and
whiplashes of hell itself. Paralyzed with fear, he spun around to see nothing but bright
lights that dazed off his eyes. In a split second as the chariot of inferno hit him with all
his might, he went airborne for a moment. And the next thing he knew, that he could
not know anything else. He could not live his six days of life anymore.
Darkness pressed down on him, pushing down his lungs. His body went cold, his mind
went blank and hot, unnerved by the heart's blood that had given up all the hope in
beating anymore. His head went loose, memories pouring out of it with red blood
devoid of pain. His eyes dropped close, taking alongside them the mystique aura of
mystery- if they dropped close, full of gratification for the gift of emotions and
memories his mind had bestowed upon him, or if they went too tired now trying to
fulfill an undead wish to take back what they could never have6 Days of Life Again.......

Parimal Chahande
- 10 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

A Word of Wisdom from the Alumni

The one factor H4 owes its rich and
remarkable hostel culture to would undoubtedly
be its treasure called the alumni. The everdedicated alumni, full of enthusiasm serve as
ideals to the present generation of H4ites.
This year, the Institute Alumni Day was
celebrated on 29th December, 2013. And as is the
tradition, several alumni of H4 graced the hostel
with their presence. It was great fun to be with the
alumni. They imparted various fundae to the
H4ites, derived from their own hostel life and
experiences at IIT and beyond.

Deepak Patil (1983 batch) with Bakul Desai (1981 batch)

Srijan Bhatt, the Hostel Alumni Secy recalls, There is a very strong bonding between the hostel
alumni. Although they were meeting after a gap of several years, perhaps decades, yet they met as if they
had met just two days back.
Mr. Deepak Patil, who did his Btech, Mtech and PhD all from IIT Bombay, has been a hostel
inmate for eleven years (1972-1983). He is, most aptly, also referred to as the Boss. He is one of the most
frequent visitors of the hostel, and had also been to cheer for H4 during this years Cricket GC! (And we
won, of course! :D) During the event, he remarked, Hostel life provides you a great opportunity to get a
firsthand experience of the world outside, as well as to explore and evolve your own capabilities and
mindset. For this, there is a necessity to bond very well with your fellow inmates, and help each other grow
through sharing your joys and sorrows and life-lessons.
It is indeed the case with H4 inmates that they have inherently strong bonds in their hearts, as they
all share the common H4 sentiment (H4 Enthu). And it is a consequence of the rich hostel culture we
inherit from our seniors, that gets consolidated year by year.
Mr. Bakul Desai (H4, 1977-1981), one of the compilers of Madhouse, the True Stories of the
Inmates of Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, added, The important things about life were taught to us not in our
classrooms, but through our stay in the hostel. Mr. Manohar Parrikar, the present chief minister of Goa,
also once quoted, All that I needed to learn in order to be a CM was taught to me by my tenure as the
Mess Councilor of Hostel 4 at IIT.
Several Madhouse experiences were shared, and inmates were also encouraged to read Madhouse.
The alumni believe it will help rejuvenate the hostel spirits that are nowadays being stolen by social
networking sites and laptops. The Alumni stressed on senior-junior bonding, and emphasized on increasing
senior-junior interaction.
All the alumni were unanimous in their profound assertion that one of their greatest achievements
in life was the friendships they came to form while at Madhouse, because it is friendship that will transcend
the boundaries of wealth, distance and, above all, time.
- 11 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

- 12 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

- 13 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Death is the Final Mercy

She was crouching in a

corner, hiding from the light,
taking solace in the darkness,
where none could see her. She
was crying tears of agony, of
pain, of fear. Her own eyes were
afraid to look at herself, at her
body that peeped from behind
torn clothes. Her legs were
numb, from being tied down by
chains for a long, long time.
Another
thought
of
escape crossed her
mind;
another jolt of hope; another
momentary
emotion
of
happiness. And then it went
again, leaving a void in her heart
that filled itself with despair and desolation. She tugged her knees closer to her chest
as she tried to hide the exposed skin of her breasts. She did not know who she was
hiding from, but the very air around her seemed to be mocking her, teasing her with
its presence. The chains that scratched the ground made a heart-wrenching sound
and she shook with fear. Shhh! She told herself. Make no sound. Stay still. Dont
move. They should not see you. Dissolve in the darkness.
Not a day ago, her life was happy. Her father, an ironsmith had gone out of the
house on his horse to fetch firewood. She was tending to her garden, watering the
flowers. She was cooking food, waiting for her father.
But he never came. His horse came back, bleeding from its side. Then came the sound
of the town bell. Then came the demons that destroyed everything. Then came that
horrifying man who beat her up before tying her up in a sack and dumping her here.
And here she was, battered and bruised, hiding away from her reality.
Why was she still alive? What did they want from her? Who else was alive?
What about her father, where was he? Was he alive? Was he dead? These questions
would enter her mind before passing away, as her thoughts faded into oblivion and
she became still, like a stone statue, lifeless, yet alive. Her breathing was slow, her
eyelids unmoving. She was staring at the slit in the tent from where streamed in a
single slit of moonlight, waiting for her fate. She did not care about life anymore. It
didnt matter to her. Without her father, without her home, her village, there was
nothing she wanted to live for.

- 14 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

- 15 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Then she heard footsteps, and she drifted back into this world. Her breathing
quickened, as she tried to press herself against the wallas forcefully as she could. She
tried to control her breath, as to not make a sound. She compressed herself as much
as she could. May be they would not see her. May be she could hide. May be they
would leave her there and go away. And then the slit opened.
Ashvyr stepped in his tent. It was dark in here. He walked towards the centre
of the tent, where he lit up an oil lamp. He turned around to close the slit, and his
eyes met a silent figure resting against the tent wall. The cloth around her had caved
in, bending the tent with her weight. She was a young woman. Her clothes were
tattered and torn from several places, to expose skin. It was pearly white, and would
have been beautiful if not for her condition. Ashvyr took down his armour and
stepped out. As he neared the woman, she crouched further in the cloth. Pitiful.
Outside, the moon was shining brightly above his head. He went to a casket of water
near his tent and looked in. Green eyes stared back at him from behind a mane of
long black hair. There was stubble on his face, smeared with mud and blood. He
washed his face and cleaned his hands. He then rubbed some water over hi muscular
chest before getting back into the tent. As he walked in, he saw the woman staring at
him from behind her dark hair. As his eyes met hers, she glanced away, and her legs
twitched.
So this was the reward. A woman. For lesser men, she would just have been a
worthless device of pleasure. Ashvyr stared at her. She could not be older than him,
although he did not know his own age in numbers. Infact, she looked too young to
be a woman. She would grow into a marvel, but at present, was not. Slowly, he
moved towards her.
As he got closer and closer, she began to shuffle heavily, first going back, then
trying to move sideways, then finally tripping over the chains tied to her leg and
lying across the ground, trying to drag herself away from him, but to no success.
Fear. She was full of it. Her existence was marred by her fear, her life but a measly
remnant of what it was. He stood in front of her.
She began crying. She stared at him and cried. Then she began speaking. Her
voice was heavy, full of tears and sobs as she pleaded to him. She spoke words of
mercy, words that arise out of a miserly soul.
Ashvyr studied her. Bending down on his knees, he touched her feet. She drew them
back and her sobbing stopped. Ashvyr looked up her legs and towards her face. She
was, from standards of men who were slaves of worldly pleasures, pretty. He inched
towards her, closing the distance between them. As he did so, she stopped breathing
and simply stared at him. She tried to cover herself with whatever piece of clothing
was left on her.
Ashvyr stopped just near enough to feel the heat from her body. Was this
Tshaliks reward? Was this the reward Ashvyr would have wanted? Did he even
want a reward?
With one final glance at her, Ashvyr got up. As he got up, his sword clanged
against the metal plates on his shin, and this seemed to have gotten the girl out of a
deep slumber. She began wailing again.
- 16 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Let me go! Please! Leave me here! Please! I beg you!

Ashvyr knew her fate. First, she would be his reward. Then the reward of the
men outside. She would serve the hunger of many men tonight. Some might leave
her, but most will not. Her fate was sealed. He could not let her go. She would be
used as a means to satisfy the needs of men that could not be satisfied any other way.
Her fate was fixed and it was worse than death.
As he prepared to leave, her hand groped at his legs. She caught hold of his
feet and put her head on them. Then she looked up.
Her eyes. They weresomething got into him. An emotion. A single moment
of pity. Of sympathy. Of humanity. And maybe she saw it. Maybe she sensed it. And
she breathed.
pleasehave mercy on me.
For a second Ashvyr stared at her. And then he swung his sword and her head
rolled away from her lifeless body. He stared at the severed head as it took a final roll
and came to rest. Staring into her horrified eyes, he said, Death is the final mercy.
And he walked out of his tent.

Harsh Veer Jain

- 17 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

...
,

,
,

,
-

,
,

,
,

,
,

,
,

,
,
,

- 18 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

,
,

,
,

,
,

,
,

,
,

,
,

Kanhaiya Bairwa
- 19 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Kudos Korner #1: SPORTS

GC: G = Gold; S = Silver; B = Bronze;
Weight Lifting (G): Tarun (G), Poonia (B), Dharma (B), DP, Jitendra (2nd), Neeraj (B)
Volley Ball (G): Poonia, Sathish, Hardik, Prashant, Shrikanth, Ram
Athletics: (G)
High Jump
Long Jump
800m
Javelin Throw
Pole Vault
Discuss
Hammer
4*100 Relay
4*400 Relay

Sathish (G), Kaustubh (B), Pranav (4th)

DP (G)
Vaibhav Patidar (2nd)
Abhishek Kumar (1st), Naveen Nehra(2nd)
Sathish (1st)
Poonia (2nd), Naveen Nehra (4th)
Deven (G), Khushal (S)
Poonia, Sathish, DP, Kaustubh
DP, Kaustubh, Sathish, Vaibhav Patidar

Cricket (G): Vishal(Deta),Pinky,Bansal, Nagesh, Amankant, Suyog, Chahar, Gaitonde, Himanshu, Anup, RP, Bhavya,
Pandey
Water Polo (G): Adwit, Unmesh, Pravesh, Vishnu, Saket, Kameshwar, Akhil, Krishna
KhoKho (S): Chetan, Dayadar, Naveen Nehra, Poonia, Bhavya, Parijat, Chimmi
Badminton (S): Ram, Amankant, Gaurav, Pravesh, Prashant
Basket Ball (S): Mahesh, Krishna, Arshaq, Deta, Amankany, Akshay, Darshil, Parth
Crossy II (S): Subhash, Sunil, Kaustubh, Abhishek
Football (B): Babu, Rahil, Bajaj, Vibhanshu, Awan, Mudit, Chimmi, KG, Pinky, Tahir, Shreayns, Imran, Chahar
Carom (B): Kanu, Keshav, Abhigyan, Panwar, Aniket desai, YAshPAtel, Nishad Shah, Raj Doshi
Tug of War: POSITION - 4
Hockey (2nd): Ayush Lakhotia, Babu
Squash: Tanmay Saxena
Lawn Tennis: Abhie Shah
Table Tennis: Aman Bansal
Chess: Pulkit Arya
Crossy I: Abhishek Kumar
Swimming: Abhishek Kumar

- 20 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

KUDOS KORNER #2: CULT

Gyrations (5th): Nayan Palat, Srikanth Bhukya, Prateek Parizat, Rampradesh, Abhishek Parmar, Hardik Rathod, Anuj
Chaudari, Ranjan Raj, Sanket Patil, Chirag Agrawal
Sophie Dance League (2nd): Ranjan Raj, Nayan Palat, Srikanth Bhukya, Rampradesh, Suraj Ingole
3D Modelling: Chirag Agrawal, Sarthak Jain, Abhishek Parmar, Sharang Raut, Pranav, Shrey Singh, Ranjeet Gakhare,
Hemil Dhruv, Danish Khan, Amankant Ambesh
Photography #1: Suyog Wankhede, Satya Naren, Sharang Raut, Sanjyot Thete
Photography #2: Suyog Wankhede, Satya Naren, Yeshwanth Ravi Theja
Design: Chirag Agrawal, Suyog Wankhede
FA: Chirag Agrawal, Abhishek Parmar, Yeshwant Ravi Theja, Pranav, Kalpak
Gen Quiz (3rd): Sanket Patil, Sushant Ciliveri, Aviral Bhatnagar, Anshul Avasthi, Palash Dhande, Abhijeet Somani, Jash
Banker, Atul Gupta, Harsh Veer Jain, Rohit Giri, Kshitij Jayakrishnan, Abhie Shah
Hindi Creative Writing (5th): Shrey Singh, Sanket Patil, Saket Bhardwaj, Darshan Patel, Akshat Agrawal
English Creative Writing: Sanket Patil, Karma Tshering
Kavya Sandhya: Karunesh Jigyasu, Srijan Bhatt, Aviral Saxena, Saket Bhardwaj, Sushant Ciliveri
JAM (3rd): Anshul Avasthi, Abhijeet Somani, Sanket Patil, Sauradip Sen
Wolf Pack (1st): Aviral Bhatnagar, Anshul Avasthi
Mixed Bag (2nd): Sarthak Jain, Sanket, Anshul Avasthi, Palash Dhande, Jash Banker, Atul Gupta, Aditya Palod
English Debate (3rd): Atul Gupta, Sanket, Aviral Saxena, Ekansh, Partha Sarthi Sharma, Jaineel Badani, Saket, Ankit
Mahajan
Stand Up Comedy: Atulit Khanna
Dramatics MD (5th): Ranjan Raj, Mitesh Kumawat, Sanket Patil, Chirag Agrawal
Film: Sarthak Jain, Sushant Ciliveri, Mitesh Kumawat
AD Making: Suyog Wankhede, Sarthak Jain, Mitesh Kumawat, Sushant Ciliveri, Chirag Agrawal
Music Goonj (1st): Atulit Khanna, Kaustubh Kanti Ganguli, Aviral Saxena, Rohan Sharma, Jayant Jain, Krishna
Pilutla

- 21 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Lukkha Corner
(1)

(2) Lit FunQs:

(a) The bestselling novel of all time is _____.
(b) The protagonist in C. S. Lewiss science fiction book, Out of the Silent
Planet was modeled after his friend and fellow author, ______, who is well known for
his work, The Silmarillion.
(c) The original manuscript of the novel Of Mice and Men was eaten by a dog.
Name this unfortunate author.
(d) Harper Lees only novel that won the Pulitzer-Prize and spent a whopping 88
weeks on the bestseller list is _____.
(e) The well-known book by Jane Austen that was originally titled First
Impressions is ______.
(f) Which famous scientist, in his letter dated 1704, predicted the end of the
world in 2060?
(g) A hardback first edition copy of this book was sold for 10,575 at a Sotheby's
auction in 2002. Name it.
(Turn to page 25 for answers)
- 22 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

The Origin of Love

A long time ago, in a distant land, a land devoid of colours, in a black and white
world without any colour in it, in the loneliness, stood a very old Tree, that sprung
over itself so many kinds of flowers that it seemed as if every bud or petal that came
in contact with it, got stuck to it. Every flower that one could have ever thought of,
could have ever imagined, could be found being a pupil of this old Tree.
One such pupil was a flower, not so bloomy, not so strong.
It hung there loose, hanging as if it had nothing to lose. Silent. Undisturbing.
It had been raining on the Earth for months, and for a month for the first time in this
distant land, and there were colourless raindrops everywhere.
Drops of rain fell over from its petals such that it seemed it must have been crying.
Crying, but with emotions. Emotions, that had evolved in it, evolved for the first time
in any living thing, because of the rains, the
loneliness, because of someone, for
someone.
Rose.
Rose hung by the side of it. Lovely, cute,
adorable little Rose. She'd been watching
the flower go from gazing the horizons to
bending towards Mother Gaia. Things had
gotten worse between them a couple
months back, and she hadn't liked the
flower not talking to her, neglecting her, but the both had been friends then too. But
since then, since that long time ago, any communication between them had been lost.
Lost in the sands of time. Eroded away in due time. Gone away, like everything one
meets in life.
She had hung there, waiting. Waiting for long, long time. Growing much taller in
this wait. Waiting for it to speak, to tell what's been on with it, to explain the bizarre
situation to her.
But it never did. And they both hung there, silent, as the cool breeze blew over them
shedding off their raindrops.
The flowing breeze seemed to have blown over Rose's thoughts. And suddenly she
couldn't control any longer. "What's happened to you?" the red Rose asked out. "You
don't seem usual. Is anything wrong? Is there something I can help you with?"

- 23 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

The flower hung there silent still. The Rose's gaze pinched him, pierced his heart,
punctured his mind. Her shining eyes, lovely face, every single thing of her pricked
his insides.
"You can't understand," he said at last, continuing to look down, broken from the
inside. "This thing inside me, this unstoppable wind that keeps on blowing inside
me, driving me forth, for something. I cannot explain it. I truly cannot. It keeps on
pricking me, pinching me, cutting me into halves...."
"It seems you have been suffering. Suffering for long time."
"There is nothing for in it to seem, it's a reality. Suffering is."
"What is it for? Tell me, maybe I can understand you."
"One cannot understand a thing like this. One has to experience it, one has to, what I
say, FEEL it!"
That was the moment on Earth, when feelings were born. Feelings originated out of
the flower, and traversed all way to the red Rose. And she suddenly looked up into
his rainy eyes, which reflected back the reflection of her beautiful face....
There was a brief pause. The cool breeze shifted into flowing air. The green
grasslands with lush black and white grass all over seemed dancing to the rhythms of
the colourless tidal waves, dancing in that flowing air. Clouds began drifting from
their original positions to rush to their destined destination. At an instant,
everything seemed unstable. In a rush. To get to their final destinations....
The flower, so weak, so tired, gathered up all his might, to look up at the smiling face
of Rose.
And suddenly, emotions that had been buried, hidden deep within it, rose. And he,
for the last time, looked into her eyes! Her shining eyes!
The emotion of 'HAPPINESS' was born.
"I don't know what this is, I don't know what this is called. The crazy thing is, I just
can't let you out of my head. Your face keeps shifting and smiling and popping right
in front of my eyes. I don't know, but I can't stop myself from thinking about you. I, I
don't know what it is. I don't know what this is called. It feels so, so unexplainable!"
Another brief pause- the flower had not experienced anything like this. It felt happy!
Someone felt happy for the first time. This pause, however, was longer.
The flowing air turned to blowing wind. Stronger, bolder, fiercer.
The weak flower hung loose over the branch, its stem getting weaker with each
passing moment.

- 24 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Finally, the flower said at last, "I don't know what this feeling is called. I think I may
call it, after me- the feeling of 'LOVE'!"
That's when the flowing air turned into blowing wind. The blowing wind blew
fiercer and fiercer, and the flower broke off from the branch of the old tree, and went
down falling. Down and down. Into the lap of Mother Nature. Leaving back the
feeling, the emotion, that it had created, that it had implanted, into the heart of its
beloved, its love- Rose! His sacrifice of his life. The love Love could never get, the
love that Love never could own.
And at that moment, it felt very, very sad. As if a part of it was stolen away from him.
As if it was in a nightmare in which the very thing that it desired, the very thing that
it longed for, seemed within its reach, but soon as it stretched out to fetch it, his
desire was no longer in reach....
And the same moment, a new emotion in the universe, the emotion of 'REGRET',
came into being. Falling silently in the waving air, the lonesome flower touched the
ground.
Rose hung there, dumbstruck at what had just happened. Not only could she not
understand the entire situation, but also she couldn't understand what was
happening to her insides. Blood pumping furiously, petals swinging wildly,
everything in a total chaos!
From the corner of her eye, she saw another flower she had never seen before.
Another aged, old flower. Wise, observing, caring old flower. The old flower felt the
time had come for Rose to know the truth. The reason for the ultimate sacrifice.
"I don't know what you are thinking, child." said the old flower, breaking off Rose
from her wavering thoughts. "But I know something has been invoked in you. Love
always used to say so, that one day, I'll convince her that such a thing, is true. But
who knew what was going to happen?"
Rose was dumbstruck still, but there was a hint of explaination in the wise old
flower's talk that made her listen all carefully.
"You see," the old flower continued, "after things started getting worse between you,
and after it'd started raining, Love had figured out that you, Rose, only you, the most
delicate and light flower of our tree, couldn't make it through the upcoming storm. It
gave up all its resources, all its ties to this tree, everything of it, for you. It shed all its
ties so you could tie to the Tree in a better way. So that you could be safe, so that you
could live on, carry on and not get washed away in this ruthless storm. All Love
wanted to do was to save you. And so it gave up talking to you cause it couldn't see
you being destroyed while it remained a silent spectator. Your ties tightened to the
tree, and your bonding grew taller and tighter. That's what Love wanted, to unite you

- 25 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

to all the other flowers so you could live a happy life. That's what Love wanted- let
the happiness not be mine, let all it be hers...."
Raindrops trembled in Rose's eyes. And at an instant she knew what had been
invoked in herself, what was troubling her insides. The last word that her lonesome
Love had ever said- "the feeling of 'LOVE'".
She glanced down at her lover, her Love, for the gift that it'd bestowed on her. The
gift, the beautiful emotion of Love! Love- the creator of Love!
A drop of rain fell from her eyes straight to the cheek of Love. The clouds had now
drifted apart, and sun came out with vibrant new energy, letting out sunshine all
over the lands. As if planned, it sent a beam of sunshine straight towards the lap of
nature where Love now lay, with colourless raindrop over his cheek.
And soon as the beam kissed the cheek, it seemed as if the heavens had descended
down on Earth. The blinding light from Sun illuminated the whole of the flower.
And like magic, a band of seven colours emerged from the raindrop, spreading
colours everywhere. Blue, green, yellow, red, all spread out in the conquest to fill the
whole world in a new set of imagination, a new set of idea! Blue crossed to the skies,
green kissed the grasses, yellow became one with the ground. And as of red, red went
into a narrow beam, straight towards the one whom Love had always lived for- a
Rose!
Absorbing the last part of Love, Rose felt complete. Now she wasn't just Rose, she
was the red Rose!
All colours now blended into one another and created a brilliant display of aurora.!
Every flower on that old Tree yearned for being a part of the dazzling array of
wonderful colours.
It all seemed beautiful to the red Rose. Amidst all this chaos, she found peace. She
looked back to the old flower, and asked the question in her mind- "Who are you?"
At this, the flower just smiled. Through the pursed lips, she spoke gently, "I am no
one child. Call me a messenger of God, or a figment of your imagination. Else simply
a story-teller Love left behind to never make you feel lonely. A reminder from Loveit'll always be with you."
The Rose looked down again, at her lover's sacrifice. Forgetting his sacrifice, she
broke off from the Tree, Forces of Nature pulling her closer and closer to her lover.
All the flowers saw her bathing in fulgent colours, and many broke off from the
Tree, trying to take in as much as the reflections possible. And as they touched its
vividness, all of them became colourful. The world had become colourful. All due to
this sacrifice of Love.
- 26 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Everyone, alongwith Rose, stemmed to the ground, and a new colourful era of life
began.
Love lay as still, now, in the lap of its dream, its desire, its craving for his entire life.
But the Rose smiled now, in the pride of Love's dedication, its persistance, its idea.
She grew thorns over herself so that from now on, no one, but only a true lover could
put hands on her, and the sacrifice of her life could lead to the creation of two new
lives! Love was now immortalized, in the form of its beloved, its beautiful, its
delicate, red Rose....
Glancing above then, Rose looked at the wise old lady, staring back at her, smiling,
happy for her. And then in a puff, the old wise flower turned into smoke and drifted
off to its end.

Parimal Chahande

- 27 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

For All Thats Gone

People, like time, pass along,

but leave behind their memories;
like a sea of smiles, a cheery song,
or a sting of poignant miseries.
In times of hapless solitude,
euphoric ventures, or sorrow
Remorse they demand, or gratitude;
or prod at a lovely tomorrow.
They play with timeall their mischiefs,
and with the changeless reality;
Tinkering hastily with beliefs,
Coercing, sometimes, into servility.
Few smiles they bring, but many a tears,
and rarely, a crackling laughter.
Hopes they invoke, and deepen fears,
Rendering bereft, thereafter.
Yet those memories are insanely sought
the deceiving truth, thatll never be reborn.
For, that is the nature of human thought
to crave childishly for all thats gone.

~ Sanket Patil
- 28 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Answers to Lukkha Corner:

(1)

(2) Lit FunQs

(a) Don Quixote (over 500 million copies sold)
(b) J. R. R. Tolkien, who also authored the Lord of the Rings series.
(c) John Steinbeck, well known for his Pulitzer-Prize winning novel, Grapes of
Wrath.
(d) To Kill a Mockingbird
(e) Pride and Prejudice
(f) Sir Isaac Newton wrote the letter in 1704, in which he predicted that the end
of the world would be in 2060. The father of modern science had an interest in biblical
prophecy as well. Newton came up with this prediction after a detailed study of various
biblical texts.
(g) Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone by J. K. Rowling

- 29 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Maintenance Work Report

Here is a list of achievements by that body of the hostel that does not enjoy the privilege of
rocking at a GCthe Maint Council. So the Maint Council rocks at keeping the hostel all tough
and solid from within! Here goes:
Book shelves installation
Canteen painting and renovation
New mattresses, bucket-chairs, cushions in TV room
New sofas in lounge
Pressure valves installed in water pumps (no more water leakage)
Window nets installed in lounge, computer room, pool room, and gym.
Construction of Badminton court
New wing geyser pipeline extension
New weighing machine installed in the gym
Installation of exhaust fans in the mess and gym
Overflow from solar water tank resolved
Integrated electric water heater introduced
Biometric entry system installed in the gym
Honor board repainting
Purchase of soaps in the washroom
Repair of washing machines, applied for newer ones.
Cycle auctioning successfully done
Follow-ups regarding development of garden in progress.

- 30 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

CULTURALS
CITATION

PASSING OUT COLOR

HOSTEL COLOR

SPECIAL MENTION

Pravesh Agarwal
Karunesh Jigyasu
Suresh Chand Meena
Krishna Pilutla

Siddharth Kothari
Pinkesh Malhotra
Arshaq Wazeem
Abhie Shah
Kanad Dagaonkar

Sanket Patil
Ranjan Raj
Atulit Khanna
Kaustubh Ganguli
Mitesh Kumawat
Chirag Agrawal

Sushant Ciliveri
Aviral Saxena
Nayan Palat
Srikanth Bhukya
Prateek Parizat
Rohan Sharma
Jayant Jain
Sarthak

Paf
CITATION

PASSING OUT
COLOR

HOSTEL COLOR

SPECIAL
MENTION

Pravesh Agrawal
Karunesh Jigyasu
Suresh Chand
Meena
Rishabh Bajaj

Pinkesh Malhotra
Siddharth Kothari
Kanad Dagaonkar

Praveen Poonia
Avdesh Dixit
Sushant Ciliveri

Ranjan Raj
Nayan Palat
Srijan Bhatt

Ajit Lulla

Vaibhav
Dhodapkar
Hitesh Sahare
Subhash Chander
Rohan Sharma

Ekansh Agrawal

Ebin Benny
Krishna Pilutla

BEST INCHARGE

Sudhanshu Jain

Sudheer
Rajendra
Rajpurohit

ORGANISATIONAL AWARDS
CITATION

Mayur
Shrivastava

PASSING OUT
COLOR

HOSTEL COLOR

SPECIAL
MENTION

BEST
OFFICE
BEARER

ROLL OF
HONOR

Adwit Kashyap

Subhash
Chander
Ekansh
Agrawal
Srijan Bhatt

Avdesh Dixit

Rahul Jain

Ajit Lulla

Rishi Agrawal

Saket
Bhardwaj
Sushant
Ciliveri
Hitesh Sahare
Nayan Palat
Ankit Sanodiya Chirag
Agrawal
Aviral Saxena
- 31 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

sports AWARDS
CITATION
Pinkesh Malhotra
Adwit Kashyap
Venkush Khede
Pravesh Agrawal

PASSING OUT
COLOR
Krishna Pilutla
Vishnu Vardhan
Vinjam
Dharma Teja
Nulli
Ram Vivek

SPIRIT OF HOSTEL 4
Praveen Poonia

HOSTEL COLOR
Amankant
Ambesh
Sathish Kumar
Korlapu Durga
Prasad
Hardik Rathod
Kaustubh Singh
Vaibhav Patidar

TECH COLOR
Saket Bhardwaj

SPECIAL
MENTION
Aman Bansal

PERSON OF THE
YEAR
Praveen Poonia

Abhishek Kumar
Naveen Nehra
Vishal Kethavat
Subhash Chander
Abhishek Yadav
Pranav
Vijayvargiya
Bhavya Narang

TECH PASSING OUT COLOR

Sudheer Katta

- 32 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

The Madhouse Council, 2013-14

- 33 -

4Play, Hostel 4, IIT Bombay, April, 14

Brought to you by The Hostel Council,

201314; Compiled by Sanket Patil, Hostel Literary Arts Secy, 2013 - 2014
- 34 -