The Melting Pot

Back from the third round of K Nags

It's half-past twelve and we're rushing.

The load undisturbed in our bags

We reach D-school - weary legs and cheeks flushing.

There's ten minutes to go before class starts

Add another five: "Let's go late.

Now that we're here, let's sit for sometime,

Have some chai, and samosas in a plate."

"In the sunshine, under the trees;

Or behind J.P teastall where there's breeze?"

"Any place where there are no dogs...pleaseee!!"

Lovers have monopolised the stretch under the trees,

Professors usurp the haunt outside the xerox-shop

With two chais at a one-rupee discount

The cemented area behind J.P's is where we flock.

Then it begins - honing the skills of observation:

Chat and churn,

Watch and learn:

The specimen that throng,

Alone, or with friends along.

Waste? - We couldn't agree.

New taste? Maybe.

(That reminds - we're still hungry!)

Next pit-stop - inside the canteen.

Is it very crowded?

There's a corner empty.

What'll you have?

Greasy spring-rolls or half-cooked idli?

Will make do with rajma-rice.

How does it matter - 

It's all oil and no spice!

Import of stares; export of glares

(And the inevitable shifting of chairs)

The food arrives after the third reminder.

A poet (probably) scribbles away in the corner

A hunk gropes on the table to show off his 'ceps

A pretty lass oblivious of the gap widening between her jeans and tee

And Baba running around under his white topee.

Gradually we push off to join the fair outside

The scene is unchanged - well almost.

Friends huddle together for jokes and sutta

Intellectuals engrossed in their intense debates.

And it's cricket now (was soccer earlier).

It's the melting pot of North Campus

Where all assemble -

Economists, litterateurs, historians, musicians,

Poets and managers from freshers to final year.

It's the platform to interact and make friends,

To catch on the latest news and hottest trends.

Somebody by mistake looks at the time:

One-thirty - didn't realise the time fly.

So last class gone; now it's time for the bus

'D-school Honours' is what everybody does.

Can't exit the hallowed ground without the last rites -

The most important 'to-do': the D-school loo.

And finally we leave, to come back the next day

Till then, to D-school, we bid adieu!