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EducratsForewordWe are now seven issues old. that's three and a half months, a quarter year. Not very long, we admit, but significant considering where we are and among the harsh realities that impinge on us everyday. Surely, there have been bigger headlines and better cover stories in the past fortnight but for us at The Educrats, it had to be Quill Spill. A writing competition that spawned in the tentative minds of the editors as a way to fill in our coffers with write ups that we very badly needed but were no t

forthcoming. Our hopes were modest, we must admit, because it is hard not to be cynical about such things in BIT. But our cynicism was to fall flat on its face with the response we got. Our two team members, Shashank K u m a r a n d A s h i s h Kumar, shed more light on what Quill Spill and its response can come to mean for us as a group of people. This issue carries two winning entries from Quill Spill. A poetry "Ek Chupi kahani" from Rishabh Jain, poignant, charming and

restrained. And Ankit Purohit's long yet deeply personal and sensitive "The Infinite Thief". More winning entries will follow in the subsequent issues. Till then, keep reading and writing. At the end, it is with The Wall we end, You will be missed.

To bring about a culture of enthusiasm and expression in the society and in minds at large.

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Tapra ChroniclesBhangi And HeMAN Take It To Newer Heights..

Read Their Conversations In The Kha-Mat Section...

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Fast BluesLike all moms of this world, my mom is the coolest person alive. But apart from this mother-son pact, you know the kind which entails a mom to talk of his son as Salman Khan and give him an ego massagePage 5

Editors PickFind A Selection Of Gadgets, Books, Websites, Movies & Music, exclusively handpicked by the editors of THE EDUCRATSPage 7

Featured This Week

A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 7 - September 1-15,2011

The

Quill Spill

"I am always willing to learn, however, I do not always like to be taught" - Winston Churchill

More than a Competition..A Reflection! A Reflection Of Who We Are and What We Can Become.

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Pen RouteThe space for original fiction, poetry and all that you can express.

$ By Rishab Jain (Quill Spill Winner - Sept 06)

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solve a puzzle so abstruse, that no mortal has been able to solve ever since. A desire to add one more definition of the INFINITE, knowing, the list will be interminable. A desire for the joie de vivre. A desire to enjoy, to relish, to savor every twists and turns of the arduous journey, and most importantly, to ameliorate myself in every step of it.

Plunging in retrospect; I found, the far I went the happier I was. I think everyone of us does cherish his/her childhood days. I went as far as I could.During those primitive days, my world comprised of nothing but my family: my Mom, Dad, Sis, Grandfather, Grandmother, Uncle, Aunt and my Cousin. But, I was to know more about the infinite, at least in order to conclude something about the abstruse puzzle assigned to me. So, I was sent to the school; and the seeds of a wonderful process of transformation were sown, none aware of its fallibility. I learned various alphabets; then I learned to make sense out of those; and then various subjects which included mathematics, science and literature. As I grew up, new subjects were added, like history, geography, geometry, etc. Yeah, I am talking about a time approximately 16 years into the past, and I can imagine you thinking: How can he remember such an archaic event. But, there are certain events in your life which exorcise you; which tend to change your conception about yourself and your surroundings. I still remember that day; in one of the geography classes, we were taught The Solar System, and our teacher who was a sheer failure, for she could never get close to a kids mentality; she could never conceive of his way of accepting new facts and ideas. A soporific lecture, lacking cadence, and by all means incomprehensible for not-so-intelligent students like me; was all she could give us. So, at the end of the day, I went home enlightened by a new fact about my world. I told my sis about my new knowledge. She burst into laughter, while I wondered if I was a monkey of the Alipore zoo; and finally decided to go for Dads help. I stated before him what I inferred from my geography lessons; that India has nine planets and a sun that constitutes a solar system. Dad, being a very perspicuous man, explained me; without making fun of my bland inference; how actually the solar system worked and where exactly was my India. It was then that I could understand and correlate existence of India, the world and the universe. He was the one who first explicated to me the stars, the sky, the moon and where these planets actually lie. It was then that I entered into a whole new world, a world which had no definition, a world which suddenly became so very intricate. But, not thinking about it much, I used to enjoy my life then.

Those were the days when Life, for me, was all about playing cricket and attending school. And yeah, a boundary was unavoidable whenever Bhavna was spotted in her balcony. But, in most of the cases, I not only missed the boundary but also lost one of the three stumps. And the day

when I was lucky enough to earn one, I would demand Re1.25 from my mother, which I very generously gifted BAJRANG BALI for giving me the instantaneous power (I cant help being an engineer). It was here that I found joie de vivre, which was very much missing in the succeeding stages of my life. Jagjit Singh very well explains his pining for his own childhood as: ye daulat bhi le lo, ye shauhrat bhi le lo; bhale cheen lo mujhse meri jawani, magar mujhko lauta do bachpan ka sawan, vo kagaz ki kashti, vo barish ka pani.

God is a real player, a great author of puzzles. He al lows only the r ichest owner of perspicuity to clear his entrance exam. Rainbow can be the best example for the situation. If you have closely examined the 7 colors of a rainbow, and the way all of them blend into each other, such that no certain boundary for a particular color can be defined. I mean, the transition of color, for e.g. from green to yellow is such, that, you cannot identify where the color is yellow and where it is green. Similar

was the case with my definition of LIFE. I had to very carefully analyze the events, when I finally noticed a change, a very slight change; similar to the transit of green to yellow in a rainbow; in the definition of LIFE. Now I could see myself as a 15 yrs old adolescent. It was 4th Aug, Sunday; Friendship day, as my calendar read. So, I rushed to Ramesh bhaiyyas shop for a friendship band. I also wanted to buy a gift, but it would cost more than a pen. Yeah, I lied at home, for mom knew that we (me and my friends) never used to celebrate friendship day. All we did was play cricket until it was difficult enough for the batsman to figure out the ball in dark. I needed a place to conceal the thing, the best place being my school bag. Rest of the day, I was very anxious and kept anticipating about the next days celebration. I could hardly sleep that night. Next morning, Mom was surprised to find me awake, for I enjoyed sleeping long hours. Trying to hide my nervousness, I headed towards my destination, while there were 30 min still left for the classes. As I entered the classroom, I scanned all the faces to find her;

Vishal called out my name, but I paid no heed. I spotted her finally. She was there sitting at the last bench. But, something was unusual; her companion, who generally used to be Shreya or Pooja; but today, it was Siddharth. I was hurt, badly hurt. Disposing off the Friendship band, I took my seat, challenging the existence of my Bajrang Bali. Had He existed, I would have been able to make friends with Bhavna before Siddharth. So, I declared to myself that He was a myth. LIFE was all about playing cricket, school and joy; but Bhavna was missing. I no more felt the need of a boundary when I saw her in her balcony, and even I did score one, I wont pay Him Re1.25 as his share.

Slowly, opening my eyes, I saw the clouds which were trying to warn me against challenging the infinite; as if trying to send me back from the midway. But I was quite stubborn to be intimidated. Closing my eyes again, I moved forward. I saw myself growing mature and responsible. Choosing Science as my subject, I moved forward in academics, and landed where I am now. During the pre-college days, life was all about getting into a good engineering college, and now it is all about making a good career. But, last year; LIFE was all about playing football, for we were having enough time to decide upon career, and after all, you need to have a break and enjoy at times. It was my first day of football practice, and also debut football match as well. After the days play, we introduced ourselves in front of our seniors, who were only two in number that day. After the traditional introduction, one of them asked if I could sing well. I replied sarcastically, Uski ki to guarantee nai h, but apka entertainment zarur ho jaega. He commanded, To phir tu kal gana, jab sab honge, final year bhi hoga. Entertainment bhi sabka hona chahiye na. But, somehow that tomorrow didnt come even after a year and a month has passed. It was just a month before when he told me, Abe tera gana abhi due h, kab gaa raha hai? I replied, Anytime sir! But, he went away. Now, he wont attend my song, the concert. I wonder why God was so harsh upon him, his dreams and his life. Khaled Hosseini in his novel The Kite Runner has very nicely explained that there is no crime bigger than stealing. If you kill someone you steal his right to live. If you utter false, you steal ones right to truth. We humans are punished for every such theft. But, what if God is the thief? Who is going to punish Him? If no one, then I will. And that is why I want to live and solve this abstruse puzzle of THE INFINITE. Now, LIFE is all about solving this INFINITE puzzle.

Now, when I open my eyes, I find the stars, the moon, the whole sky blurred. They are not clouds this time. I rubbed my eyes, for it also soothes you when you are pressed by your LIFE the way I and my friend was. I again looked at the sky, hunted for the brightest of all the stars; and experienced a sense on intimacy, as I did with my friend.

A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 4 - July 15-31,2011 A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 6 - August 15-31,2011 A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 7 - September 1-15,2011

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A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 6 - August 15-31,2011 A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 7 - September 1-15,2011

When Quills Spilled Magic

Recently some motocorp televised its new advertisement whose jingle said hum me hai hero and quite easily so. Being a Rehman fan, I liked the tune but the idea in its modified form that struck me was the expressionist in us. We all like to write even if we dont want to show. Probably the process of penning down our thoughts makes it more firm as a belief. The idea of Quill Spill, though driven by the database enhancing motive provided with an undeniable proof of this fact. The ingrained joys and sorrows of the juvenile poetry which cluttered some nooks found their way to our inbox. Several refreshing fiction-based write-ups made delightful reading as well. Amazingly all of the closet poets turned out to be brilliant and effective expressionists. This vibrant display of talent and enthusiasm left the judging team completely awestruck and utterly undecided over the winner. The exhilarating feeling of letting go of several emotions or the maturity of thought dripping out of several lines or the sheer will to express are the best achievements one could think of.Maybe the entries were aimed at winning those free bucks involved but the ulterior objective which got served inevitably was the rolling the inertial wheel. It portrayed the magnitude of talent and the unimaginable exuberance to let it flow provided more than a proof of the possibilities in us. This place which we consider stagnates us or demoralises the ambitious inside us is not actually so. Our expressions and unbound thoughts can be beautifully presented and this competition was just the cog in the wheel. What lies beyond that is the realisation that we in our seemingly embalmed state of inactiveness still are alive. Not mere attendance seeking, sessional craving, numbed students but vibrant and colourful. It is subtle and humble but it is a start and we believe theres much more to show, to express. The culture of enthusiasm which we sought after has seen an opening and is already pouring in with promising evidence.

Papa please dont leave me alone, Ill fall off , these were the words I spoke when I was learning how to ride a bicycle. I sat on the bicycle fearlessly after saying this cause I knew I had a support. It was the same usual routine when one day I turned back to find out nobody was behind me to break my fall. Shivers ran through out my body, my hand started to shake. But moments later I realized I was riding the bicycle on my own. It tasted like success though I had not won an Olympic. These moments were something I relived after Quill Spill.Quill Spill a writing competition with a moto likho dil khol ke! Spread for a period of four days in which the best entry of the day would get a cash prize. Those four days turned out to be less for the immense hidden talent that people had, and was extended by another day.Where had this big pool of talent been all this long? Kept as a vestigial part of our lives, hidden beneath some rug for so long ? We are afraid, afraid of what the crowd will think, what my friends will think, what about the image I have, will I be the same cool person as before, what if it doesnt come out that well? Quill spill gave them a reason that it is your views that matter and not what others think. Having been in BIT for more than two years, there wasnt a time when I had the glimpse of these people who could write and write real well. We always want to be in that cozy little nutshell of ours, reluctant to try anything new for it might turn out to be a disaster. Maybe we should try and if turns out to be a disaster then we know that one thing we are not supposed to do.We all need a push, the push that we were given to go to the first day of our school, the push while riding a bicycle.. This event never aimed at creating writers that would go on to make nobel prize winning literary pieces ( it will be a cherry on the top if it does happen) but what it did was to make us all realize that you dont need to be the author of a book to express your thoughts, all we need is just a little PUSH , a platform, a stage where people would respect what you think. And now we all have a very strong reason to support the fact that yes there always will be people who respect your thoughts.It did ignite the spark in many and many that are left to be lighted. The world seemed nice again to see people writing to their hearts content and pouring their magnanimous thoughts written on paper in the small bag that quill spill had provided. It tasted like success once more though not like victory. Hope this small step continues to take long strides in future for once I was afraid of riding a bicycle alone and now I am not bothered of the speed breakers that slow my cruising bike. Though we will fall someday, but that small fall wont stop us from continuing the saga which we started..

By Ashish Kumar

By Shashank Kumar

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Culture VultureThe Space For Books, Movies, Music, Slyness, Wickedness and All That Which Makes Our Lives Beautiful and Funny

A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 4 - July 15-31,2011 A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 6 - August 15-31,2011

Like all moms of this world, my mom is the coolest person alive. But apart from this mother-son pact, you know the kind which entails a mom to talk of his son as Salman Khan and give him an ego massage, I have found a legitimate reason for the high coolness quotient of my mom. She Fasts. Every Monday, she does what is now the coolest thing to do in this whole wide world. I wonder whether Sabarmatis Sant ever thought that Fast will become this generations Disco or bell bottom. But then no one also ever thought that Himesh Reshammiya could get away with his nasal torture (even Reshammiya himself). I digress. Coming back to fasts, I was thinking of fasting myself but only if I could find a good enough reason or a cause as they are called these days. Savan somvaar sounds too much like Tulsi Virani, so thats out of the question. Fast on Tuesday for Hanuman makes me look like a Bajrangi, which again is distasteful. But then I found a legitimate day to do it, a day that called for something as personal a tribute and as strong a vow to be truthful and resilient than any other. It was the 10th anniversary of 9/11.

Each one of us has a 9/11 memory. We heard it from someone, didnt understand the gravity of the tragedy until later, saw it on tv and were strangely disturbed, learnt and heard new words that trickled down to our daily vocabulary. Osama, Al Qaeda, terrorism, Jihad. Then we got our own version of it eight years later on 26/11. And then it really sunk in. I am sure that I may never be able to comprehend, relate and empathise truly with the bereavement, pain and sorrow of those whove been dealt with that cruel sleight of fate until it comes knocking on my door but I cant be indifferent to it when I hear their stories and of their pain. Therefore with these words, I just wanted to remind myself that I care, that I am human.

Moving on, Mr Narendra Modi, the testosterone heavy leader of vibrant Gujrat, has started his own Fast. I am not really sure of his motive, it is called Sadbhavna fast by the way, which roughly translates to goodwill fast, goodwill, communal harmony, etc are just catchwords, I believe it is his first push towards staking his claim for the PM candidature. I am no fan of Narendra Modi, he may be a great CM but hes more of a hyper-nationalist Sunny Deol version of an Indian Politician, a sort of a leader that the Middle class would love and adore after eight years of The Sissy Sardar. But then the Middle class for all its voice, hyperbole and jingoism has never been able to win elections for any politician, its the aam admi that does it. And Narendra modi is a long way from doing it. Rahul Gandhi has a head start courtesy bhatta parsaul. If its down to the muscle man Modi and the poster boy Gandhi for PM in three years time, then I dont know about you but I will demand a null vote and say a prayer for the future of this country. If there has ever been an inconsistent movie star in India then it has to be the Nephew. His new movie alongside Sheila will not make you cringe if youre prepared to do so beforehand, instead it will be mildly enjoyable. Youll find yourself having some decent laughs and drooling over Sheila during the movie but it is the nephew who will leave you underwhelmed. He started with the wonderful Jaane tu ya jaane na, then did some five forgettable, dreadful things like kidnap and luck but still came up with the amazing and courageous delhi belly and just when you thought hes found himself, he gives you that hum nahin sudharenge laugh and makes Mere brother ki Dulhan. The playboy rockstar is surely winning the race of being the next big thing of Indian Cinema by a Long Long mile and hes got Sheila to boot.

Now, if there was a real bittersweet moment in the past fortnight then it has to be The Walls last flourish in Blue. Rahul Dravid, having lived in the shadow of the Supernova that was Sachin Tendulkar, really reaffirmed his vitality and cemented his legacy in Indian cricket. I remember growing up, Dravid was the player that came to signify slow, Chaatu batting, then solid, reliable batting and then sankatmochan batting. Dravid was that one player who showed to me that cricket wasnt about the meat of the bat or the strength of the bicep but the beauty of the bat swing, the suppleness of the wrist and most importantly the stern stuff of the mind. He was a warrior poet on the Cricket field, a man gifted with the grit of a warrior and the grace of a poet, and seeing him walk off that field for one last time in blue, I thought of my most memorable Rahul Dravid moment, and couldnt come up with any. He wouldnt mind it I guess. For he has been The Wall, solid and ever present, on which other hallowed legends have sprung up and been written.At the end, let me just tell you that I didnt fast on 11th September, didnt feel like it. But if Dravid ever sits down on a fast, then Ill sure be there with him, provided he has a cause. And I feel like it.

Fast BluesBy Aniruddh Agrawal

A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 7 - September 1-15,2011

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Kha Mat...Quit Playing With My Balls Heart..

Tapra Chronicles 7HeMan (looking at a quill spill poster) abe ye kya hai??

Bhangi ye ek competition karwa rahe hain hum log..likhne ka (sees the bored look on HeMans face)..prize money bhi hai.

HeMan (seems interested now) kitna??

Bhangi 300 har din..4 din ka hai.

HeMan bade seth ho gaya hai tu!! Kahan se dega paise??

Bhangi arey uski chinta tu mat kar..bas likhkar mujhe bhej dena..

HeMan abe mujhe jita dena ek din..beer pilaunga..

Bhangi achha!! Tu pilayega!!!

HeMan haan pakka..pehle tu jita to sahi..

Bhangi abe jeetne k liye likhna padega..judge koi aur hai..nahi to beer k liye kuch bhi!!

HeMan (calls out to another guy) abe lomad!! Idhar aa..

Lomad kya hua??

HeMan tu likhta tha na shayari...uske liye..

Lomad abe usne to maar ke rakh di meri..ab to gum me likhta hun..scorpion me..

Bhangi abe tu likhta hai!!! Kabhi bataya nahi..dekh ye poster..

Lomad abe!!!! Ek number..isme mai hi jitunga!! 1 bar jeeta to 2 din ka scorpion ka kharcha nikal jayega!!

Bhangi abe mujhe bhi pilana...competition mai karwa raha hun...

HeMan kamino!! Maine bataya hai lomad ko iske bare me mera bhi banti hai!!

Lomad abe lado mat..sabko milegi!!(The results of the first two days are out and Lomad was out of luck till now)Lomad abe bhangi..kaun hai be judge??

Bhangi abe mujhe nahi pata..uper ke log dekhte hain ye sab..

HeMan (to lomad) tu bheja bhi hai sale aalsi!!

Lomad pooch bhangi se!! Daily entries bhej raha hun..fir bhi MUJHE nahi jita rahe!!

HeMan maa kasam!! Dikha ek aadh mujhe bhi padha..

Lomad chup saale ganwar..ghanta tujhe samajh me aayegi!!

HeMan jaa na be..kisiko pasand to aati nahi hai..usne bhi maar li teri aur judge bhi bhaav nahi de raha!!

Bhangi abe nahi judge log mast aadmi hote hain sab pata hota hai saalon ko!!

Lomad ghanta!! Mera dil janta hai kaisa lagta hai..kitna dard hota hai!!

HeMan abe tu to senti chuane laga..abe wo tere layak hi nahi thi...

Bhangi achha jaan de..tu kyu nahi likh raha be HeMan??

HeMan abe mujhe pata hai tu sale apne newspaper me chaap dega..mujhe apni nahi maraani!!

Lomad fattu sala!! Kuch nahi kar sakta life me!!

HeMan kam se kam koi aakar meri maar ke nahi chal deta hai!!!

Bhangi abe lado mat..abhi kal ka bacha hai dekhte hain kya hota hai..abe lomad tu bhejte rehna baaki apan dekhte hain..chal abhi lab hai..

Lomad haan chal bye..

HeMan bye..

Aandhi Aayi..What Is The First Thing That Comes To Your Mind When You Hear..

The Most Stupid Thing You Ever Wanted To Be

Taxi Driver..

Stethoscope of the Cute Doc..(Men Will Be Men) :p

flute vendor

An Aeroplane..

An Ice Cream Seller

Ticket-wallah at the Movie Hall..

Scrappy Do...Go Google it. :p

Powerpuff Girls..Bubbles to be precise.

Neta..

Wanna Add More To It..Log Onto Facebook & Comment On The Educrats Page..

facebook.com/TheEducrats

A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 4 - July 15-31,2011 A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 6 - August 15-31,2011 A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 7 - September 1-15,2011

S E Q U O I A C L U B

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Editors PickFind A Selection Of Gadgets, Books, Websites, Movies & Music, exclusively handpicked by the editors of THE EDUCRATS

Written in 1948, the novel is set in a dystopian time in the future, 1984 to be precise, where in the world is divided into three super-continents (Oceania, Eurasia and East Asia) who are in constant war with each other and each of whose populace live under totalitarian regimes that promise A land of peace and of plenty. A land of harmony and hope but in unabashed irony keep the people on the brink of starvation, kill free thought, dissent, art and every source of human expression, constantly rewrite history and erase past records. Amid this steady erosion of not only the dignity of life but the very sense of being human, Winston Smith, a common worker, tries to not so much stay alive but stay human by falling in love and writing down his thoughts and searching for others like him. Written by George Orwell, 1984 has come to represent more than just one mans caveat against the darkness that awaits us, more than a terrifying vision of the future, more than just fiction, it has come to represent the most chilling and eerily imminent portrayal of the world we are sculpting; a stark, bleak yet relevant account of the ills of power (Power is not a means, its an end) and the ugliness of the human soul. It is utterly captivating, timeless and like all masterpieces, life-changing.

1984

Megamind

After super-villain Megamind (Ferrell) kills his good-guy nemesis, Metro Man (Pitt), he becomes bored since there is no one left to fight. He creates a new foe, Titan (Hill), who, instead of using his powers for good, sets out to destroy the world, positioning Megamind to save the day for the first time in his life.

Windows 8 Unleashed..

Microsoft Unveiled its next generation OS at Build Conference this Month. While it does borrow heavily from the successful idea of bringing mobility to desktop OS from Apple, it does not succeed. Microsoft expects to have the heavy duty OS in all devices, be it mobile or laptop. This will lead to mobile devices panting for memory and desktop versions with a touch interface will lack substance. Microsoft has surely faltered yet again. It needs to realize that copying ideas from Apple would also require some re-think, something that Microsoft has long-forgotten. Also, Microsoft has to get rid of the DLLs, Temporary Files & A u t o r u n s t h a t m a k e W i n d o w s a favorite..among the Attackers.

Posterous

Sting's bass, leapt from the punk underground to conquer the radio airwaves with 1978's "Roxanne." For the next several years they went on to create a wildly successful body of work that was both experimental and highly pop-wise. Maybe that's why they titled their most popular album Synchronicity, and maybe that's why 30 years after they arrived on the scene their reunion tour was one of the most celebrated rock events of 2008. Rolling Stone

Posterous is such a simple microblogging platform, it almost makes Tumblr look overly complicated. The Y Combinator funded startup is a bit of a mix between a blogging and lifestreaming service, with a little dose of Twitter thrown in for good measure. To start using it, users only have to send an email to post AT posterous.com and, within a few minutes, posterous will respond with the address for the new blog.Posterous was founded in May of this year with about $15,000 in seed capital, but it has already attracted a fair amount of users and has been adding new features at a steady clip. Posterous is currently free and plans to start selling premium features in the future.

The Police's songs are unmistakable. Both canny and cosmopolitan, the British trio's sound blended pop hooks and tricky rhythms. Reggae beats here, African funk there, and on top of all the pulsing grooves, the keening wail of Sting's voice. The band, driven by Stewart Copeland's drums, Andy Summers' guitar, and

The Police

A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 6 - August 15-31,2011 A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 7 - September 1-15,2011

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facebook.com/TheEducrats

we.the.educrats@gmail.com

A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 6 - August 15-31,2011

Randoms A Tribute To Rahul Dravid

Tell Us What You Think..Feel Free to Let Us Know What You Thought About The Educrats. You Can Also Be A Part Of It. All you need to do is just pick up a pen and paper and write whatever you feel and send it. Well publish it and take it to all. Remember, This Is Just A Start..

A Fortnightly Newsletter Issue # 7 - September 1-15,2011