#*did not know what the fuck orange chicken was until schools combined for middle school & new ppl started asking if i liked orange chicken

[rongzhi]

Evaluating American-style Chinese cuisine

English added by me :)

#douyin #video #tiktok #this is fucking sending me #as someone who in 1st grade had to sit through a classmate's 'international cuisine: china' presentation #wherein one of the foods she named was MACARONI SOUP #like. did we eat macaroni and cheese every tuesday for convenience when i was a child? yes. and was it fucking soupy? yes. but MACARONI汤?!? #and i did not know what the fuck orange chicken or general tso's chicken was until well into middle school #also until literally the moment i was double checking my translation just know #i've been thinking it was general tsao's chicken #*did not know what the fuck orange chicken was until schools combined for middle school & new ppl started asking if i liked orange chicken #my mom's friend owned a chinese buffet and that's basically where i tried american chinese food for the first time #and then her son made me sit there and watch him play sonic and halo on xbox #also did not know the difference between the chickens until literally this video #anyway diaspora experience amiright #cw food

[machihunnicutt]

Small Hot Chocolate, No Whip (Chapter 5)

(Or read on ao3.)

Chapter 5: Connor

When Connor was little and things weren't so hard he went on a family trip to Kings Island. His dad bought him and Zoe orange sherbet push up popsicles and his mom took them on the carousel. Zoe convinced him to go on the roller coaster with her even though he was scared and got nauseous easily. It didn't end well. He threw up the second he was off the ride and later fainted out of a combination of fear and the heat. On the ride home he curled up in the seat beside Zoe and asked her about what had happened. He was still woozy and the events of the day blurred.

"I'll tell you if you want but I think you'd rather not know," she had said. She said something similar the night after his fight with Evan.

He had a raging headache and his mouth tasted like dirt but he wanted to know.

"He brought you home dummy. He went and found you and brought your drunk ass home," she said. "That's not his job you know?"

"I know it isn't," he said, putting his aching head in his hands. "I've really fucked myself over haven't I? There's no way I have a chance now."

"Did you hear what I said doofus? Evan Hansen tracked you down, got you in the car, and carried you to bed. I think he gives more than a passing shit."

"He carried me?" His face burned.

Zoe sighed and handed him the aspirin. "Look, from the look of it you two made up last night, but I think you should go do it again now that you're sober. And you can't do this okay? If you're having trouble you need to call me not get wasted and ghost on us."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I trust you. You can't go and betray that trust."

"I'm really sorry Zoe."

He avoided Evan for a few days out of embarrassment. According to Jared, Evan was on bedrest for the rest of the weekend and was only permitted to leave the house for his finals next week. Connor knew he hadn't been wrong. Sleep deprived and sick with anxiety, Evan's words were sharp and hurtful. Connor knew he didn't mean it, but standing in his kitchen, feeling totally at home and finally in control, they hit him like blows. For a moment the voice in his head that never failed to berate him turned into Evan.

When they saw each other again Connor blurted out an awkward apology and thrusted a hot chocolate in his hands. Evan, as per usual, was sweet and accepting and even invited him over.

"How were your finals?" Connor asked hesitantly. Connor's had gone fine for the most part.

"Really well actually," he said sheepishly. "I guess I was worried for nothing like always."

"Don't beat yourself up. Now you know to be more confident in yourself."

Evan nodded. "That's what Jared said."

Connor ducked his head and rubbed at his wrists. "I guess Jared hates me now."

"He'll come around," Evan said firmly. "He worries. That's all. I told him that the fight was my fault anyway."

The trip to Kings Island was one of the last times he felt like a normal kid in a normal family. Shortly after he began seeing himself as the family disappointment.

"It was my fault too. I shouldn't have kicked you out like that."

"It's in the past. Let's stop talking about it."

Connor liked the brisk way he said that, as if reciting from a book of rules he'd recently memorized. The next few weeks were better. School was winding down in preparation for the holiday break and Evan had more time to breathe and waste hours in the coffee shop.

"I'm serious bro, you've got to tell him today," Zoe said, counting the ones in the register. "You know him. He's going to want extra time to pack if he decides to come."

"He might say no," he replied, snapping the rubber band on his wrist. It was a better habit than scratching at his scars. "He could have plans."

Connor had his hair pulled up into a pollyanna. He thought it looked stupid until one day when Evan walked in and complimented him profusely.

"I'll do it today," Connor said.

It was one of those days where Evan came in after his morning class and sat there for hours, working on homework and sipping hot chocolate.  Connor decided to ask him when he brought him a refill.

"Hey Ev," he smiled. "How's it going?"

"Did you know the tallest tree is a redwood called Hyperion? It's 379.7 feet tall!"

"No I didn't," he said. "That's really cool. I brought you another hot chocolate."

"Thanks!"

Stop pining Murphy. Just spit it out.

"I um...you probably have plans but Zoe and I were wondering if you'd like to come home with us for the holidays? You can meet my parents and uh...I mean obviously you don't have to. It would be three days. It's a four hour drive so I understand if you..."

"Yes," Evan cut him off.

"What?" Connor said dumbly.

"My mom has to work over the holiday anyway. If I went home I'd just be alone."

That image made Connor sad for a moment. He'd heard all about the hard working and compassionate Heidi Hansen but the thought of Evan in his house all alone made his heart clench.

"You think they'll l-like me? I'm not great w-with new people."

"They'll love you. How could they not love you? You're only the sweetest person ever."

Evan blushed and when Connor comprehended his words he did too. He snapped the rubber band again. "Okay, I'll text you the details then. Thanks Evan."

You make everything better Evan.

"He's coming," he told Zoe.

"Yes! Is he excited? Did he seem like he was excited? He's so cute when he's excited."

"Shut up Zo."

***

"So I'm going to bring the sweater and my usual jacket but which pants should I bring?" Connor dug through his drawers nervously and Zoe rolled her eyes. "He knows what you look like doofus. It doesn't matter what you wear."

Connor's phone pinged and he checked the message:

EH: I'll see you soon! Can't wait. :)

He grabbed a bottle of iced coffee. It was his second of the morning.

"Quit drinking those. You're gonna crash when we get there and it'll just be me, Evan, and them."

He was nervous. Going home always made him nervous but this time was different. Going home with Evan meant letting him in to a part of himself he'd tried to bury.

Evan sat shotgun so Zoe could stretch out in the backseat. Connor put on his music: a strange conglomeration of Green Day, Nirvana, and classical piano. The last of which made Evan laugh when it came on.

"It's soothing!" He protested. "It's like your ambient music." When they ran out of his music they put on Zoe's (mostly pop songs with a good amount of classic rock, Spanish guitar music, and sappy love songs that reminded her of Alana.) Evan fell asleep beside him and he chugged another iced coffee before they pulled in the driveway.

He nudged him and Evan's eyelids fluttered adorably. "We're here."

"Is my hair messed up?" He asked. It was, a little, but Connor reached up and smoothed it instead of answering him.

"You look great," he said. "My parents are going to love you. You'll be the son they never had."

"Con..."

"I'm kidding. I'm fine. C'mon Zo we're here."

The house looked the same: yellow paint and wreath on the door. His mom welcomed them at the door.

"Mom this is Evan Hansen. Evan this is our mom."

"It's very nice to meet you Mrs. Murphy," Evan said politely, and Connor was proud of the way he kept his voice even.

"Please, call me Cynthia. It's a pleasure to have you Evan."

They shuffled in past the photos of him and Zoe that hung on the wall. They were mostly before his mental health started getting bad. It was as if life stopped just as he entered middle school. There were buck toothed group shots and dorky school photos nestled in neat frames.

"I hope you like roast chicken Evan," his mom said.

"You're making mashed potatoes right?" Zoe asked.

"Larry they're here!" Mom called.

Larry Murphy wiped his hands on a dish towel.

"Dad this is Evan Hansen," Zoe said. Larry extended his hand and shook Evan's.

"Nice to meet you Evan."

"Nice to m-meet you too sir," Evan said. Connor got the feeling he was better at meeting moms than dads.

"How about you take Evan up to where you'll be sleeping while Zoe sets the table?"

Zoe rolled her eyes. "I just got here and you're already putting me to work."

"Sure," Connor said. "It's right up here," he grabbed Evan's hand instinctively and saw Larry's eyebrows raise.

"My room's over here." He didn't let go as they climbed the stairs and entered Connor's old bedroom. He cringed at the teddy bear still stationed on his bed and My Chemical Romance posters on the wall. "I can sleep on the floor. You take the bed."

"N-no I can't s-sleep in your bed," Evan mumbled.

"I insist Hansen. Now can you braid hair?"

"B-braid?" Evan was pink again.

"Yeah, can you help me out?"

"I'll t-try."

Connor sat on the edge of his old bed and thought about all the times he'd cried in this room. He thought about the blood shed and obscenities screamed and boys daydreamed about in here. Evan's hands shook as he braided. "I like your room."

Connor laughed. "Thanks Hansen."

"Your parents seem nice."

"They're nice enough."

"M-my dad left when I was little. I don't really remember him."

"I'm sorry." He couldn't put together why someone would want to leave Evan.

"It's okay. I'm done." He secured the braid with a hair tie. "You were kind of emo weren't you?"

"Shut up."

They had roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and asparagus for dinner. Mom was planning something even more extravagant for Christmas dinner but the house was already uncomfortably suburban. The Christmas tree was decorated with red and green ornaments. There was a model manger on the mantel and the house was lined with lights.

"What are you studying Evan?"

"Environmental science," he said brightly. Across the table Zoe grinned at Connor.

"The sciences," Larry chimed in. "There's something useful, not like Connor's English degree."

Evan frowned. "I think English is plenty useful."

Cynthia smiled at him. "Of course."

"Oh please, his degree's about as useful as his ridiculous hair."

"Dad," Zoe warned. Connor's jaw was tight. Evan looked over at him with worry and after a moment put his hand on Connor's leg.

They strayed to Zoe for a moment and the conversation was alright. Zoe showed them a video Alana took of the concert. Mom and Dad didn't know Alana was Zoe's girlfriend. She'd made him promise not to tell.

The night started to wind down and Connor felt a vague buzzing in his fingertips.

"Hey Con, did you take your meds?"

"Oh shit, no I forgot." He got up from the table and Larry scoffed.

"Back in my day men solved their own problems. None of this chemical garbage."

Evan visibly tensed. Connor did to want to start a fight. For once he was too tired.

"Larry please," his mom began.

"With all due respect Mr. Murphy, medication is a very useful and in cases like my own a vital part of treatment for mental illness. That's what your son has. Illnesses need medicine," Evan said.

The silence hung. Evan turned white.  

"I like him," Cynthia said. "Evan honey would you like some more chicken? Connor go take your medicine so we can get to dessert."

After dinner Connor stalked to the back porch while Zoe showed Evan the rest of the house. No one was going to bother him so he lit a joint and took a long drag. He hadn't wanted to get high this weekend, not with Evan here, but the pot made the horrendous scene at dinner more bearable.

"Con? You okay?" He turned around to see Evan in the doorway. His brow furrowed. "Are you smoking?"

"Sorry," he said reflexively. "I only brought the one joint I promise."

Evan closed the door and came to stand beside him.

"You wanna try?"

"I'm fine."

"Thanks for what you did back there. I get tired of fighting with him. It feels pointless."

"You're okay right?"

"I'm fine. I just needed something to take the edge off."

"We have very different ways of relieving stress."

"Why, what do you do?" He looked over at him with a lopsided grin.  

"Cry, or garden."

Later that night Connor sat on his bed and thought about, with a squirming feeling, how much he liked Evan Hansen. You have it bad Murphy. You have it so bad. Evan was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas. Connor passed the time by painting his nails.

"Are you sure I shouldn't sleep on the floor? I really don't mind." Evan's PJs consisted of a blue and white baseball shirt and the shortest shorts. Connor nearly choked on air. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "And I want you to have the bed. I'm just not tired yet. Do you want to talk for a bit? I have a cool nightlight."

Evan nodded eagerly. When Connor still lived in the house of ghosts he went to bed with a blanket of fake stars. They shown above them squeezed into Connor's old twin bed. They spoke in gentle whispers that reminded Connor of sleepovers when he was very young and had friends to invite over.

"Is it usually like that?" Evan asked softly after a minute or two of pointless questions. (Evan's favorite color: blue, book: My Side of the Mountain, food: his mom's tacos, ice cream flavor: peanut butter.)

"Yeah...I mean it used to be a lot worse. I uh, I mean I know he cares. He's just set in his ways you know?"

"I know but it doesn't make it okay." Evan rolled over to face him. His face was so close. If Connor leaned forward an inch he could kiss him. God, how he wanted to kiss him.

Connor had known he was gay since about 5th grade. He got crushes on every boy in his class. He doodled his name attached to whichever boy captured his attention in notebooks. Connor Murphy was a not so secret romantic. He'd dreamed of kissing boys in this room, though it never happened. It wasn't going to happen tonight.

"I know it isn't okay. But that's family right?"

Evan nodded slowly. "I guess." He leaned forward so his head was resting on Connor's chest. Connor felt like he could fall asleep right there. But he didn't.

"I get it I guess. I mean...I can't solve my problems without my medication. I'm not like him. I'm not a real man."

"S-stop it with that t-toxic m-masculinity bullshit," Evan said firmly. It was funny to hear him stumble over a term like toxic masculinity.

"I'm trying," he said weakly. Sometimes it hit him all at once: how hard he'd been trying for so long, all the progress he'd made and yet the approval that constantly eluded him. It made all the work seem more exhausting. "I did a lot of bad shit Evan," he continued, voice cracking. "I wrecked my dad's car. I threatened to kill my sister. I stole shit.  I said terrible things. I...I don't know Evan sometimes the past seems like too much to get over. Sometimes," he whispered, ashamed of the words as soon as they came out. "I think it would've been better if I'd just died when I tried to."

Suddenly Evan's arms were around him. He pressed his head closer to Connor's chest and clung on tightly. "I think you're great Connor Murphy. I think you're great and I'm so lucky to be here with you. I'm so lucky. I never want you to leave Connor, not like that."

He sucked in a breath and was aware of his lungs and ribs and skin over his veins. He breathed in and thought about what it meant to be alive.

"I'm lucky," he replied. "I'm really the lucky one Hansen."

They were silent for a moment, and when Evan detached himself from Connor's chest Connor moved from the bed to the sleeping bag. As much as he wanted to fall asleep curled around Evan he knew it wasn't a good idea.

"Goodnight Hansen."

"Night Connor."

***

The next morning Connor asked his mother for permission to commandeer the kitchen for breakfast. Evan agreed to help him.

"Mom always wants us to make her fancy coffee now so I thought I'd take her up on it this time," he said. A good night's sleep had done him some good. He felt less like his brain was oozing out of his scalp.

"That's awfully nice of you," Evan said, looking bewildered at the sugar water Connor had put on the burner. "Can I help with anything?"

"You can grab me some ice," he replied, stirring the simple syrup and preparing another saucepan to steam some milk.

"What are you making?"

"I was thinking some lattes and iced mochas provided we have chocolate syrup. I'm also going to make eggs and toast so we're not all bouncing off the walls with caffeine overload."

"So you make breakfast a lot?"

"Zo and I switch off on the weekends. I like cooking."

Evan brought him the ice cube tray and he plugged in the blender. The caramel was done and he located the chocolate syrup in the cabinet. He turned off the coffee pot and poured a portion of the coffee into the blender with the ice. To this he added some cream, simple syrup, chocolate syrup, and vanilla extract. Evan watched him with interest.

"Can you crack some eggs in a bowl and see if we have any shredded cheese in the fridge please?"

Evan nodded vehemently and turned back to the fridge.

"Shit, sorry Evan I forgot my meds and I should probably take them before my dad gets up. Do you think you can grab the pill bottle from my bag upstairs?"

"Sure," Evan abandoned the eggs and darted down the hallway.

The house was quiet in the morning. Connor eyed the photos and magnets on the fridge. He remembered why it was so easy to get lonely here. In high school it had felt like no one really knew him, like if he died anyone could make up anything about the person he was and no one would question it. He imagined people would pick and choose the parts of Connor Murphy they wanted to remember. They'd piece together a puzzle with missing pieces: his mental illness, greasy hair, nasty attitude, sexuality. It wasn't until college that he felt truly known. God, how it helped to be known.

Evan came back and he thanked him as he swallowed his pills dry.

"Do you want me to show you how to do the cute latte designs?"

"Absolutely!" Connor had never seen someone who by all accounts didn't drink coffee get so excited about it.

"Alright." He poured the remaining hot coffee into his mom's nice round coffee cups and handed Evan a cup of steamed milk. "It's kind of tricky so don't be upset if it doesn't work out okay? Now you've gotta pour from one side to the other and shake the cup of milk as you go to get the pattern. Go slowly okay?"

"Okay," Evan said, face scrunched up in concentration. He followed his instructions to make a shaky flower.

"Great job Evan. You're a natural."

"Now you do one."

Connor took his own milk and carefully crafted a foam heart over the top of the coffee. He glanced over at Evan, who was a lovely shade of rose. "I'd say one was for you but you don't drink coffee." Smooth Murphy.

"Th-thanks anyway."

"No problem. You wanna put whipped cream on the mochas while I do the eggs?"

"S-sure."

Breakfast went swimmingly. Mom loved the lattes and Dad was a sucker for unnecessarily sweet caffeinated beverages.

Mom had planned a baked ham, roasted squash and zucchini, fresh baked bread, and a pumpkin pie for Christmas dinner. She was busy in the kitchen all day while Larry was in emergency conference calls for work.  Zoe had plans to visit some of her high school friends, and because Connor didn't have any of those, it was just him and Evan.

"It's funny, they say the holidays is for spending time with your family and all that and yet it's just us."

Evan laughed. He'd convinced him to drink half of a mocha and Evan was running on a caffeine high. Connor thought about what would've happened if he'd tried the weed and grinned.

"We could watch some movies? I bet all the dumb Christmas ones are on TV."

"Don't lie. You know you love all the sappy Christmas crap," Evan giggled. He actually giggled like a dork.

"Fine, fine okay let's watch Love Actually."

Evan was sitting close, socked feet tucked beside him. Partway through the movie he leaned his head on Connor's shoulder. By the end of the movie Evan was asleep and leaning heavily on him. Connor was trying very hard to maintain his chill.

"Connor honey do you know what time your sister is...oh," his mom came into the living room and smiled softly. "He's a very sweet boy," she whispered.

"Yeah mom."

"Are you two...?"

"We're friends mom, just friends," he said, face heating up. His mom knew he was gay. His dad didn't.

"But do you...?"

"Yeah," he interrupted. "I...yeah."

She smiled again. "He's really very sweet."

Evan complimented his mom's dinner and Zoe told stories about high school that didn't make him look like such a loser. Larry was bearable and Connor felt more at home than he'd ever felt.

After dinner he snuck out back, pulling Evan along with him. It was snowing and he felt the cold in his fingertips. The cold burned his lungs. "My mom loves you you know?" He said breathlessly. "She thinks you're great."

"I am great," Evan said uncharacteristically. Connor cackled.  

"Yeah, yeah you are. Hey can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Do you have a crush on my sister?" He asked.

Evan looked down. Suddenly Connor felt so hot he didn't mind the snow.

"I used to," he muttered. "Um...now I don't. Now she's just a good friend."

"You don't have to lie to make me feel better. It's okay."

"I'm not lying. I like someone else now."

Don't cry Murphy. He'll feel bad if you cry and that's not fair.

"Oh, okay."

At least he knew. It was better to know.

***

It was New Year's Eve. It was New Year's Eve and Evan's roommate was throwing a party. Zoe was invited and Evan had talked Jared into inviting him too.

He let Zoe pick out his clothes and do his hair. She even gave him a little eyeliner because it looked badass (her words not his.) They brought a bottle of champagne and Jared warmed up to him quickly.

"Hey Ev." Connor found him quickly. He was standing in a corner by himself holding a drink. He looked nervous. Connor wanted to kiss him.

"You made it!" He sounded too loud in the crowded room. He swayed on his feet.

"Yeah I did. Are you drunk?"

"A little! Jared said I should relax more."

"Good," he said. "Good, he's right."

"Do you wanna drink?!"

"I'm not drinking tonight, but I'll take a soda if you have one."

"Yeah!" He grabbed his hand and  pulled him into the kitchen. His hand was kind of sweaty but Connor didn't mind.

"Do you know anyone else here?"

"They're mostly Jared's D&D and trivia friends," he said in a loud stage whisper.

"Ah, so it's a nerd party?"

"Shut up!" He hit him on the chest playfully. Connor reached for his arm to steady him.

"You're such a dork I bet you only had one drink."

"Shut up," he repeated, slinging his arms around Connor's neck and pulling him down for an awkward hug that brought their faces too close together.

"You're doing a good job at relaxing huh Ev?"

"What time is it?"

"11:45."

"Let's go outside!"

"It's freezing dork."

"C'mon!" Evan's eyes were shiny and his lips were very red.

"Sure, okay."

"It's been such a great year hasn't it? I met you this year Con. How great is that?"

"It's pretty great."

Evan's smile was wide and his nose was running from the cold.

"I think you're my favorite person," Evan said. "Well probably my mom too but you're definitely up there."

"What about this new crush of yours?" He said bitterly. He felt dumb. The first crush he'd had in years and he liked someone else. He was cute and drunk and liked someone else.

Evan giggled again. "Jared says I have a Murphy kink."

"I thought you didn't like Zoe anymore?" He folded his arms over his chest protectively.

"I don't."

"I don't get you. And anyway it's 11:56 we should go back."

"Con it's you."

"It's me what?"

"What time is it?"

"11:57."

Evan took a step closer. "I think you're great."

"You said that already."

"Shut up Murphy."

"Okay."

"You deserve so much."

"I don't know about that."

"You do."

"Evan," his voice cracked despite himself.

"What time is it?"

"11:59." Inside he could hear the party goers counting down.

"Connor I like you," he said.

Connor could feel his heart pounding.  "Like as a friend?"

"No, like in the gay way. Or more like the bi way cause I'm bi. What time is it?"

"It's midnight Hansen."

Evan Hansen kissed him. He tasted like beer and bubble gum. He kissed him for a long time and Connor kissed him back. He curled his arm around Evan's waist. It was midnight on New Year's Eve and he was kissing Evan Hansen. They drew back at the same time.

"I like you too," he said.

"Oh thank god," Evan replied. "Cause that would've been really bad."

"You look really cute."

"No you do."

"We should go inside. It's freezing."

"Okay, hey Con do you wanna go out sometime?"

"Yeah doofus we can do that. Let's go back inside before you freeze to death okay?"

"Okay."

#treebros #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #evan hansen/connor murphy #deh #deh fic #musicals #zoe murphy #jared kleinman #awi's fic

[literaryclubiiti]

Growling Shriek(s)

DISCLAIMER: This is an admittedly light-hearted conversation about the trends of our most beloved IIT Indore between two not entirely happy-go-lucky stalwarts about to graduate. Following the tradition, this can be considered as a whole-hearted, but nonetheless well-intentioned rant. Reader discretion is highly advised.

By Amey Ambade and Ashish Bharatwal

(SCENE 1: SILVER MESS)

(It’s about noon on a Saturday in March. Amey is sitting on the wildly recognizable red chair, steel plate on the beige table, as ‘Tip Tip Barsa Pani’ plays loudly on the TV, almost in sync with the water dripping off the water filter behind him. He dons a grin as Ashish joins him, visibly frustrated.)

Amey: Dude, what’s up with your mess refund?

Ashish: Motherfuckers. They should be drowned in their own broth.

(Murderous glances from judgemental postgrads across the table)

Amey (unconcerned) : Hard luck, eh? What did you expect, though? Four years on, they’d understand why you dislike them? Didn’t you get to fill a pointless form to get something out of it?

Ashish: It’s not the first time I am getting the short end of the stick in IITI.

Amey: Not the first time you’ve said that.

Ashish (smiling) : Not the first time you’ve said that. You tend to be able to predict each other’s moves after this long a swim in the shitpool as comrades.

(Random Mess Guy comes up: ‘Bhiyaa, mess fees pay kar di na?’ They look at him disapprovingly, and taking the hint, he promptly disappears.)

Amey (doubtfully breaking a piece off a roti with bare hands) : Amen to that, brother. Chal, aaj khane mein kaunsi insect species ki discovery hogi dekhte hain. Talking of insect species, what’s up with E-Blockers suddenly hitting the gym?

Ashish: Well, whaddya know? Trying their best to feel good about themselves before leaving; what were they even doing the last four years, haha!

Amey: Ah well. You know and I know. Now that everyone else is in Simrol, I don’t know what eyeballs you speak of. I give the fad a month to drop off. We clearly couldn’t give two shits.

Ashish (chuckling with disgust) : Especially now.BTW, speaking of shits, look at this - Lauki Ke Kofte. BC’s trademarked turd-sized dumplings® are turning out to be a favorite of those who haunt the Jain food counter. Tatti khaaye par pyaaz na khaaye.  

Amey (proud to not have made the unfortunate sabzi choice) : Chuck that, chal Fresco chalte hain, Snickers pe fir se PayTM cashback aaya hai.

Ashish: Yeah, I have to get a couple of photocopies too. These B-schools! Why do they even have CAT if that is just meant to be a ‘Fuck you!’ to mediocrity?

(They leave the mess, their untouched food-laden plates still on the table. The freshness outside is liberating, it’s like getting out of a green fart convention.)

Amey (finally inhaling air) : Perceived mediocrity… Thodi toh political correctness chahiye, bhai. But yes, I agree. I’ve been swamped with my MS applications lately, and they are equally exhausting. Thinking about our lives after graduation is perhaps more frustrating than trying to maintain a straight face when Batra talks. Add to that the lifelong terror that we will take away from boarding harmfully yellow buses, and lo, you have the recipe for a migraine.

(They reach Fresco, and scan through the hastily placed products. Amey discreetly picks up a Zandu Balm)

Ashish: Remember when as freshmen we were singing at the top of our lungs the lewd version of ‘Chahun Main Ya Na’ and didn’t give two shits when we noticed a furious Batra peering over us ominously from the half-open door? Ah, I miss those careless times.

Amey: And the countless number of times we partied with complete disregard for the neighbors or Digant? It helped that we had no immediate neighbors, aur guards to apne jigri thhey. But with no authorities to piss off now that everyone except us is thankfully in Simrol, it’s like, hum kiske dimag ko shot de ab?

(They’ve collectively picked up stuff worth 150 bucks but will pay only a hundred because subsidy.)

Ashish (showing his phone screen) : Hey, look at this article in ToI: Fluxus event winners haven’t received their prize money. This one guy says IITI owes him fucking 10k. Much ado about Fluxus every year. The only ones happy are the OCs, until last year, right? From what goes around in the campus, they reported earnings of 3000 from Sunidhi’s concert, and an attendance of 3000 in the media. What an absolute load of crap?! 70 lakh mein toh teen decent Fluxus ho jaayenge BC.

(They’re walking, surrounded by the white buildings with eerily jail-like black railings that have defined their time in Silver Springs. Now that Silver isn’t infested with overexcited juniors, final years are loitering in the quaint streets.)

Amey: I still stand by my idea to only have an e-Fluxus to save the money and the Kejru-level shaming.

Ashish: Haha, if only you knew e-Fluxus actually happened this year. We had a middling singer Shirley Setia adorning the terrains of Simrol. I also heard Aditi Agrawal was their second choice, now that she has her own YouTube channel. Way to go!

(They get to the lift, sharing it with the classically unconcerned 4th floor wali aunty as they hear the dulcet voice on loop, touting “Please. Close. The Door. Krupaya. Darwaza. Band. Karein.” Somewhere, Hodor’s soul is shedding a single heavenly tear.)

Amey: The terrains of Simrol! There’s some places in our new campus that look like scenes from True Grit, Blazing Saddles and Mad Max were filmed there. I could swear the dust twisters could effectively upend an unsuspecting Simmi and Avnish holding three Cormens each. Avnish will probably be ecstatic about that, too.

Ashish: It’s miraculous how so few cases of asthma have popped up given the dust bowl Simrol is and the number of students cooped up in there. We are a resilient lot, I must say.  

(They get out of the lift on the famous 3rd floor and enter D-314.)

(SCENE 2: ROOM)

Amey: We’re wasting an entire sunny afternoon for my bloody transcripts. ( He pauses to check a news notification on the antics of a certain orange unhinged toddler-psychopath.) You have to agree, though, with all the negatives aside, isn’t it actually pretty convenient to navigate around the half-built pods in pyjamas?

(They change in a minute, time is important here, and Amey reaches for his shoes. There’s no way he’s going into the arid Wild West in flip-flops. Ashish checks the bus schedule on his phone. They have bus schedules, for fuck’s sake, doesn’t that say a lot by itself?)

Ashish: Yes, but that doesn’t outweigh having no good food, good booze and good company in a ten-kilometer radius, does it? Taste Butts? Screw you, Rohan Rathore.

Amey (disapprovingly) : No cash, only college Smart Cards accepted. And you have to try the infamous Chicken Fried Rice. Nothing screams appetizing as half-cooked rice with boiled chicken bits and spring onions sprinkled on top to emphasize the near non-existent efforts that went into serving it. Maybe if our batch was shifted to the forsaken place too, we wouldn’t have had such a pessimistic opinion. Maybe angoor khatte hain.

(Both take a minute to check if they haven’t forgotten their ID cards and proceed to exit the building. ID cards hold more importance in the Simrol campus than platinum credit cards.)

Ashish: But then I wouldn’t have been able to go to TIME for classes twice a day at ungainly hours. (Phone pings) Iss Utkarsh Kumar Singh ko chayn nahin hai. And then there’s the IIT Indore Discussions and Complaints and Grievances and Suggestions and Repercussions and Discombobulations and Fornications page. People have no chill, this Gymkhana has no chill. Which is a good thing, actually. This one tried its best to make things right. The Constitution was a pretty good move.

Amey: Yeah, they tried to right some wrongs. Avadhesh is hands-down the most proactive Gymkhana President I have seen, especially in regard to being responsive. Can’t say the same about the vigilants-in-their-own-right juniors who were more concerned about lengthening the mail threads with their bull than making their contribution count. The juniors really get on my nerves sometimes.

Ashish: Sometimes? Hah. What have the Quiz and Literary Clubs been up to? I count one… two… three… Three events in the last year, both our clubs combined - no aggressive, only passive, these runts. I’m pretty sure we left the clubs on high notes, but the future for these exclusive groups of students seemingly aspiring just for PoRs is obscure at best. The clubs are almost decrepit now, but the enthusiasm to forward mails from other institutes’ fests has not dwindled a bit.

Amey: Our work defined these clubs, but I agree, lately, confusion seems to have taken them to a standstill.

(They board the dangerously yellow bus after a 10-mile walk)

(SCENE 3: FREAKISHLY YELLOW BUS)

(Amey proceeds to sit on the right side of the bus. Arey naive child.)

Ashish: Bhai, uss taraf dhoop aayegi.  

(They sit on the double-seat and share a headphone. Ashish bangs ‘Another Day of Sun’)

Ashish: I can listen to the ‘La La Land’ soundtrack on end. This and Abusive Aunty Mix and Chodu Singham...  Did you know they caught a third guy for downloading umpteen gigs of porn @36MBps in Simrol?

Amey: Kya?! Yeh kaise hua bhai? That poor pervert.

Ashish: The IT guys can obviously track you in the new hostels. The surprising thing here is, they cared enough. They ALWAYS care when it comes to the quotidian aspects of student life gone slightly haywire. Khaane mein keede se koi problem nahin hai, par Frooti ka payment overdue hai toh expulsion.

Amey: Well, if one guy hogs the whole network, others have to come jumping like it’s The Dawn of The Rise of The Dusk of The War for the Planet of The Apes. I remember how we used to go bat-shit crazy when someone was downloading the latest episode of Game of Thrones from our gareeb 80GB limited Airtel networks when we already had it. Some people were so goddamn serious about the bandwidth they’d become whinier than a Goth kid trying to find his eyeliner.

(The bus hasn’t started yet. CultSec boards. Bus revvs.)

Ashish: Here comes our poor sacrificial lamb. He should wear a tee that says, ‘I am Kalash and I am not a terrorist’.

Amey: Sir, I have known him since my first day at IIT Indore even though that is technically impossible, but impossible is just a word at IIT Indore and apparently everyone had such a good rapport with him so they decided to keep him 22 km away. <insert GRE words image here>

(Both chuckle and greet Kalash, who proceeds to sit behind them.)

Amey (checking phone) : Naya email. Best BTP submissions ke liye. Alag hi! BTP awards are farcical. No interdisciplinary uniformity in grading or evaluation. Two submissions from Mech and both got some prize or the other at the Symposium because of their presentation.

Ashish: Or just plain luck. Still, man. Our BTPs saw some real effort. Our many advisors deservedly became Associate Professors. It was high time, wasn’t it?

Amey: My faith in the IITI academic system is still maintained thanks to these hardworking guys. You remember how hard they had to fight to get us great courses for a Minor degree?

Ashish: The Minor program was unarguably the best decision that defined the academic policies for our batch. And the future batches too.

Amey: Personally, I’d love to see a core subject Minor for the new batches. And Abhishek Sir is the best DoSA we have had since Granny’s left Silver Springs. He’s doing a commendable job, especially given all the student shenanigans.  

Ashish: I think you discount the students’ role tad too much. Our batch has some of the best coders in the country. Utkarsh and the Shah bros are going to the ACM-ICPC World Finals, hopefully turning it into an institute tradition. Then we have prodigies like Tripathi. These guys have done a lot to promote the coding culture at IITI, if only by setting examples. Look at the placements and internship trends you and I noticed this year at the PO: we are near the top of the ladder in India as far as CS is concerned. But more focus on other branches would not do harm, would it *rant intensifies*? 

...Look at the abysmal performance by Electrical and Mechanical; for a decent salary we non-CS guys either have to learn programming and leave our core studies for the night before the exams, or go into research, or take GATE or CAT or IES or IAS or KLPDS and what-not! While we as students need to grow balls and learn how to not get swayed away by first CTCs, some push from the institute would be great.  

(Amey isn’t listening. Notwithstanding the growls and *shaking* of the bus, Amey is cozily napping.)

(The bus stops at the campus main gate after what seems like the whole length of ‘Jodha Akbar’ and ‘What’s Your Rashee?’ combined.)

Entry Gate Security Guard: Sir, ID card. (Ashish has been pretending to sleep too because guard overlook karne ki probability 80% hai and as accent-torn Deepika Padukone in xXx quotably says: he likes his odds.)

(These adamant seniors are not giving up)

Entry Gate Security Guard: ( unable to cut the bullshit, nudges Ashish) Ser! (shudder) ID.

(reluctantly pulling out his ID, Ashish mumbles under his breath.)

(The insidious dust has broken Amey’s sweet nap. He coughs as the scarily yellow bus proceeds into the vastness of the campus.)

Amey: Look, kids with donation boxes for used clothes. AVANA has consistently been on a roll. Although the sight of someone silently looming over you as you sleep, whispering ‘Thatty Rupes’ is almost as scary as the time we watched The Descent and shit ourselves simultaneously crying and laughing.

Ashish: ( in an impressive Marathi accent) Nepali Vachli bhau. Nepali Vachli. (Both share an inside joke as the bus comes to a halt. Destination reached.)

(SCENE 4: SIMROL)

Amey: ( getting down) In the end, that’s what matters. Although persisting regionalism is a good talking point for students, with all its pros and cons.

Ashish: Closely-knit antelope herds are not easy to penetrate.

Amey: Is that the first time you’ve said that? (another chuckle shared, this is getting cheesy) I don’t even remember why we came here. Oh yes. Transcripts.

(A friendly junior smiles and greets them. In contrast to the shade thrown in Simrol, cordiality is still burgeoning here.)

Amey: There are perhaps no stronger polar opposites than AVANA and SESC. I might be horribly wrong, but from what we’ve noticed, it seems like SESC has become redundant and unproductive. The startups they have been promoting either sold stationery or just took the MHRD grant for pizzas, getting bundled up in a matter of months.

(They approach the Physics Pod complete with cinderblocks to cranes and the evergreen sounds of metal hammering. )

Ashish: Yeh bik gayi hai SESC. Ab is SESC mein kuch nahin hai. Yeh saare milke humko pagal bana rahe hain m--

(Ashish stops abruptly as Professor Vishvakarma passes by, greeting them briefly.)

Amey: This guy is THE man. Our Placement Office and the IAC would never be as well-established without him. What’s up with IAC this year?

Ashish: Santosh Sir worked selflessly for both Placements and the Conclaves. Never will the student members be as happy and well-fed as we were under his rule. Haan, this year’s IAC is going to be a mish-mash effort by Rajveer - all hot air and no real content. Ah, who cares? It is anyway under a different professor now.

Amey: But you must admit, PKU sir has been a worthy successor to SKV. The Placement Office is working as a well-oiled machine thanks to him. Won’t you miss our Placement Office perks?

Ashish: Do you mean the divine morning coffees, occasional mayo sandwiches and sour-ass lemon teas or the long hours of highly productive meetings and equally unproductive bakchodi? We’ll definitely miss both.

(They get to the new Academic Office. Ashish listens to the incoherent dialogue between Amey and Rinki Ma’am, and watches her give Amey his precious transcripts.)

Amey (whispering) : Tapesh sir and Rinki ma’am have really grown on us fourth-years, haven’t they?

Ashish (whispering back) : Yeah. I used to get a cold shoulder earlier. Last time I was offered tea. I guess they understand how being seniors is difficult and that our problems begin to get more genuine as we grow through the college. Familiarity here bred sympathy, instead of contempt.

(Cut to: One hour later they leave from SS in an Uber to the city as the dangerously catchy

Swachh Bharat jingle is being heard everywhere. Pity the driver of those poor garbage trucks, people. You can only listen to so much of Kailash Kher and the Chorus Kids. Hey, Kailash Kher and the Chorus Kids sounds like a decent band name.)

(SCENE 5: INDORE CITY)

Ashish: Yahaan Johnny ke paas rok dena, bhaiya.

(They get out of the Nano and pay using PayTM because demonetization. The driver is conveniently named Ramesh. He frowns over not having received cash. Bitches.)

Amey: Where our fuckbois at?

Ashish: Dugar and Bapat are at Sam’s (free) Momos, they tell me. Diggi, Govil, Dhaivat and Avnish are having Fire Paan. Prajwal is at Nafees for biryani. Damn! His attraction to biryani is borderline sexual!  

Amey: Can you blame him? It is magnificent. Though not as magnificent as the one we had at the notorious Love Palace party. Our juniors will never experience the thrill of gatecrashing a wealthy Punjabi’s lavish food fiestas.

Ashish: That was quite a fiasco! The Curious Case of Love Palace! The slaps, the drunken brawls, the humiliation, and, in the midst of it all, the most delicious meal we have ever had, owing in large part to its absolutely undeserving our shorts, slippers and hoodies.

(For our unwitting readers, on 24th February 2014, allstudent received a mail inviting us to the housewarming celebrations of an ostentatiously built residence, the Love Palace that falls on our way to the Axis Bank ATM in Silver Springs. We turned up in full strength, especially the first years who were early to arrive and plunder and leave. Our super-seniors flocked to the open bar, exhausting it of its offerings within an hour. As it turns out, the mail was a hoax perpetrated by *insert_mysterious_name_here* and we were actually not invited. The hosts were gonna have none of that shit. What followed was some lit slapping and thrashing game from our truly Punjabi hosts, which effectively ceased all the faggotry in mere minutes. Amey and Ashish obviously escaped unscathed because they were dressed decently, which was a camouflage. The Bhatias, in the week that followed, saw the wrath of the slap-ees in the form of broken car windows and some dope graffiti. Some of the first-years got their long-overdue slaps well in advance, though.

This event was perhaps one of the most happening ones at IITI, even more than a few Fluxuses. Or is it Fluxii?)

(As they gobble up a hotdog each, they see their homies approaching and a shitstorm of banter follows)

If you’ve manage to read all of the rant above, you can flatten as you go up. The writers want you to know that despite all its flaws, IIT Indore is actually a pretty good place to be, and they cherish their years here. Ashish (rather suspiciously) knows the roll numbers and names of all the people here, and Amey knows how to ignore them. The best hostels in any IIT system, the united outcry that we so often witness (*cough* mess *cough*), a filial feeling that comes with the perk of having a small student population, and the shared respect for friends, professors, and everyone else around, definitely make our IIT Indore journey memorable.

(BONUS)

[email protected]  : Wish you all a great life ahead, Batch of 2013–17!

[email protected] : And I

#iitindore batchof17