They say that in a battle field, there is no father, no son, no brother and no friend. Just you and the other. Your spear for the pulsing heart of the enemy. Your sword for his overlarge head. Your scimitar for his genitals (at least it is so among the Arabs). You and him. Him and you (pretty much the same thing, actually….).
In the battle field, you ask for no quarter, ‘cause u ain’t gonna get any.
This is war. There are battles to be won. Reputations to be kept in grasp. Lairs to be retained.
Coz this is the battle of screwing. And here, there is no space for the faint-hearted.
So do you have it in you to screw the ones around you and stick ‘em on the wall??
Then your place to be is not in front of your goddamn PC, but at a certain inter school fest.
A fest to find footholds, to make a name for yourself in the art of screwing (some call it “theyp” or other variations of the word. But your author would like to refrain from using words newly inducted into the vocabulary….) and to avenge the grudges you bear. Not any other inter-school fest…. But THE inter school fest (or at least so THEY say)…..
Yes, Let The Battle
The previous day was a night mare. There were participant lists to be finalized (thanks to a STUPID somebody and his equally stupid stubbornness), parts to be decided in the drama event, the song to be practiced. In short, we had everything to do and had something like 5 hours in hand. With the aim of finishing these stuff, we went over to the house of one of my friends. There were a surprisingly large number of guys crowded in the house (guess the fact that a particularly hi5 tuition class in the vicinity which was scheduled to conclude in 2 hours and the angelic beauties in it played the catalyst…). I was swept with the tide and found myself closeted in a room with complete music buffs. Well, at least, there were the girls to look forward to….Needless to say, after all the dubbing, rehearsals, practices and me suddenly finding myself contending in a new event, I managed to get home by 11 o’ Clock, to one angry mum and a sleepy sister reprimanding me gleefully for the lateness of the hour….
The day dawned awesomely. The sun rose up, with its usual glorious splendor. Having slept at early hours of dawn, not surprisingly, I woke up bleary eyed. Then SOMEHOW I drag myself to school, to rendezvous with my friends. It was then time for last minute checks and finally to board the bus.
An hour later finds us in some God forsaken part of Trivy. They say that THE school has its abode here in the middle of no where. More space for their extra-large heads, I s’pose. They show us greenery. We yawn at them. After all, one doesn’t boast of the Gir to an Amazon-dweller…It was then a time for the last minute frenzy to smoothen out the shirts, flatten the odd strands of unkempt hair and to plaster expressions that would (hopefully) qualify as COOL. (The desire fuelled by presence of the “infamous” TRINS girls in the vicinity….) Little did we know that the worst was yet to come, waiting just round the bend so that it could surprise us with one mistimed leap.( Did I just say “mistimed” ??. Well, that was for us. THEY, in fact, had timed it very well indeed…)
It all began with the rooms. “All the non-participants are s’posed to be in the auditorium. The participants can continue their practice..”, our so-called “usher” announced in a kinda broken English. Well, they were so bright that they expected the dance and music practice to be conducted without a power supply. Then ensued a running around by us until finally after much “shakes and swirls” we were allotted one more room. Thank God! (For now at least…).
But the apprehension had already settled. The odd gleam of battle lust could be seen in our eyes.
Yes. We had a gut-feeling, that from that moment onwards, we were in for a hell of a time.
[To be continued..]
