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Well its souvenir time and it seems that every Tom, Dick and Harry is writing an article about something. I being one of them have decided that I too should demonstrate some of my writing skills to this ignorant lot which has uptil now considered me good for nothing save crying and whining in morning and in night.

Now, something about myself, I have two kid brothers, they have been brought up in a very protected environment and lots & lots of sisters, all very caring. All my sisters are tall & dark like me but very slim, unlike me. I really love my brothers, kill one of them and I would really die of pain.

But it was only in IT that I made real friends. And you know why, in IT there are no girls so only friends are of help when you are frustrated, when you are excited and when you want to go to sleep.

Now some of my friends really love me, they want to be with me in G-11, in trains, in movie theaters, in bus, in T.V. room, etc. etc.(think of me differently).

But I think everybody is unfair to me, only do when I cry, do my friends laugh and some do even emit animal-like sounds. My friends have funny ideas about me but I know given a chance each one of them will push me down some dark crammed up hole. Others say that they want to run me over mounds that would take cow weeks to graze upon, and an Arab chieftain with a camel months to trot upon. Now I must admit that I would love any such ride. But putting someone in somebody's mouth is certainly not a good idea especially after we have heard about aghori cannibals existing along the ghats of Varanasi.

Then there were some ITians around who proclaimed in the very first year that they had nothing to do with me. That they were good guys and like good guys they just studied, ate and slept and did nothing in between. It was only later revealed that they were as much my friends as all others and daily at nights they used to hold their hands together with me and say their bedtime prayers and then I wept.

As we depart the only thing I have left to say is that you might forget me now but do remember me when you marry, I would certainly like to seeee your wife.

At last I write a poem devoted to all my IT friends.

Bedard jamana Kya jaane

Kya dard judai hoti hai,

Woh hum ko pakarte hain, hum rote hain

Ghar ! Ghar ! mein judai hoti hain.


Nishith Krishna