For those of you who thought this would be a meta article based on my Marquez-esque title, you’re wrong. I just had to show off a little to begin with. Although I adore the author, the only people I currently identify with are Ross and Rachel, as quarantine forces me into a slowly decaying potato state of mind (and body) in the middle of my 10th rerun of this ghisa-pita hua show. For context, Ross is a cocky weirdo who likes Rachel, and Rachel, like a true Law School girl with no options, inevitably falls for him. Then they break up and make up and break up and make up and break up and make up (yes, I have put the exact number of times).
Why do I currently feel like them? Something is oddly familiar about the way they yell “We are SO over,” “We were on a break,” “I don’t need your stupid ship” and the like, only to fall in a limbo of uncertain feelings again and again. After all, I’ve had my own love-hate, on-off, toxic, full of incredible highs (hehe) and painful lows relationship over the last 5 years. This is not a romantic expose — I speak of Law School. And much like Rachel, only now that the ship has finally sailed, do I realise how much I will miss the stupid ship.
This ship has a lovely exterior, full of green and white and red, and it draws you into its fold immediately, like a beautiful green Venus fly-trap. The exterior of course conceals the air of anxiety, the unsteady ceiling of ridiculously high expectations, and the noxious environment of gossip and judgment that surrounds the entrant. Not to mention the institutionalised structural hierarchies and stigma that shape most interactions here. The bad times here are bad to say the least — but never fear because now we have not one but TWO counsellors (*orgasm*) to get us through it.
But perhaps my ship is more than just a well of cloying bitterness.
My ship is purple-orange skies that appear on cold evenings with the warmth of the laughter of your friends around you. My ship is evenings spent at Chetta doing the one leg dance (girls you get it) discussing anything from the CAA to the fond memories from a trip to Gokarna. My ship is the hungover smile on faces when they pass the newly muddy, brown Quad on mornings after a raging party. My ship is the genuine happiness on a beloved professor’s face when an entire batch surprises him one evening with a cake. My ship is the hours spent in exertion training batchmates to dance to Bollywood songs from 2 am the night before Eastern Dance.
My ship also has these tiny corners of light that I’ve often taken for granted. The pleasure (lol) of being woken up at 12 pm by loud, giggling ammas rather than your irate family screeching your name. The hours you spend talking about everything and nothing in your neighbour’s room, that you’ve made your own. The moment a professor exclaims in excitement because of a fierce but fulfilling academic fight in class. And most importantly – Atithi’s aloo parathas that can make any horrible day okay.
And CUT. Feel nostalgic? Yes, I do too. Now imagine someone throws you off this ship into the depths of the open sea with no warning. For context, watch Shah Rukh Khan throw Shilpa Shetty off a terrace in Baazigar in slow-mo (who wouldn’t?). The sea is cold, it is uncertain and you see no direction or relief. Yet you are expected to leave your beloved ship and home of several years, and begin to swim away from it. Except due to our friend Karuna, you can’t begin swimming away, and you’re immobilized in a position where your beloved ship is right there in front of you and you could have been on it, but it is now also beyond your reach.
People tell me this is adulting and this is the way of life, but as a good friend recently told me — yeh sab capitalist construct aka mohmaya hai. So, screw being mature about leaving Law School. We are going to whine and weep and prolong our stay when we come back for our luggage (lol sorry first years). Because this is our home.
This is not to say our experiences here are not shaped by who we are. As an upper caste cis-woman from a metropolitan city, I acknowledge my experiences are positive because of my privilege and background. Law School has a long way to go to make this ship a steady and joyful ride for more than just a few. Yet, Law School is also a people, and for them I am most grateful.
A Quirk article would be incomplete without gyaan, because Quirk articles are usually gyaan/ woke movie reviews/ cool rock sing-alongs no one gets, and we love it. My gyaan is simple – channel my batchmate Adit Munshi. Go back to college and take pictures of everything. Of trees and treadmills, of food and fungus, of Chetta coffee and class. Because believe us, it is heartbreaking to have no closure and a dream of OLTs that you thought you would get and memories you thought you would make. Treasure your time on this ship, because kal ho na ho, aur agar hoga bhi, toh bohot sucky hoga.
The fifth years shall continue our bingos and binge-watching, in the faint hopes that we can return to our beloved ship before that is lost to us forever. In the meantime, keep up the academic rigour and the scholastic incrementalism y’all!
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[Image Description: The focus of the picture, in the centre, is the NLS library. Surrounding it are doodles of various things in Law School. There are mentions of all the food places in and around campus – Bistro, Chetta, Rohini, Hungry Hub, Juice Shop, Atithi and Gokul. Law School events are depicted – Spiritus (with a basketball hoop), SF (with a strawberry wearing headphones), Univ Week (with a banner), GCL (with a cricket bat and ball), Mooting (with a trophy) and Nego (with client and counsel placards). There are doodles of Dan, Dominos, Pride, a laptop running out of charge, a bookshelf, a hot beverage, weak wifi, a clock with the bell – various aspects of Law School. These are accompanied by mentions of Nagarbhavi skies, field scenes, Maggi and bun butter bhujia, tort v torts, “pedagogy” and “academic rigour” – all those little things that make Law School, Law School.]
P.S.: We still love you, Law School.
]]>They are at home, they are managing their families, they are planning their finances and supplies, yet they are also helping run the college efficiently. Quirk reached out to Madhu Sir, our Assistant Librarian, Padma Ma’am, Supervisor of the UG Course at the Academic Administration Department, and Usha Ma’am and Beena Ma’am, Administrative Staff at the Vice-Chancellor’s Office.
Quirk also wanted to interview other members who may not officially be a part of the University but are a beloved part of the NLSIU Community. Quirk reached out to Chetta, owner of Aishwarya Bakery, and Jayaram Sir, owner of the printing shop at the Library. These are people who are non-salaried and who get by on account of the business that the NLSIU community gives them. Quirk felt that it would be important to understand the disproportionate impact that the lockdown has had on different members of NLSIU.
These interviews were carried out by the Quirk Team, with help from Karthik Rai (Batch of 2023).
This article is the first of a series, Quarantining with Quirk.
Madhu Sir
Assistant Librarian at NLSIU
I am home alone, so I am trying new recipes. My routine includes cleaning the house, washing clothes, listening to lots of music using apps like Spotify, SoundCloud and Amazon Music and downloading new movies through Telegram. I am watching movies and series on Netflix, Amazon Prime and Hotstar. I am a huge fan of Manchester United, so I watch old matches on YouTube. I have gained weight so I work out daily. I also video call my friends who are abroad. I am making videos about the quarantine and sharing them on Whatsapp with my friends.
With respect to work, I am working from home. So you can call me ‘Home Librarian’. I am constantly in touch with my colleagues – without their help and cooperation, I can’t fulfill any of the requests sent by the faculty and the students. We are online 24/7. My colleagues and I have compiled the list of open source websites which will be very useful for the user community during this lockdown period. We are supporting our users through Digital Reference Service everyday.
The greatest difficulty which I am facing right now with respect to doing my job is the frustration that I feel because of working from home. It’s very hard to find materials and fulfill the users’ requirements while sitting at home. It’s hard to not be able to order new books and receive them quickly to help out our faculty and my students.
I miss my library so much. I miss playing football with my students, helping them find materials, receiving new books and ordering new books. I also miss my colleagues and having tea and lunch with them. I am worried about campus dogs – since no one is there on campus, I don’t know who is feeding them?
Praying for everyone’s safety during this crisis and looking forward to getting back to normal life ASAP.
Chetta
Owner of Aishwarya Bakery at NLSIU
I’m right now at my friend’s place in Bangalore. I couldn’t travel home because of the lockdown. The other chettas are home, but I am stuck here since only I arrived first for the reopening in March. I had planned to leave on Monday (23rd March), but there was unsold ice-cream. Before I could sell all of it and make travel plans, they announced a lockdown. I can still go home by going to Mysore and taking a bus from there. But I heard they mandatorily admit everyone to the hospital and only discharge us after a 15-day quarantine.
What do I to spend time? Nothing much, just sitting in my room (laughs). Those back at home also don’t have much to do. My friend has a grocery store here which opens at 12pm. Sometimes I sit there for a while. Sometimes I watch TV. If they do lift the lockdown restrictions on April 15th, I’ll try boarding a bus and getting home, so let’s see what the government decides. Of course, even if they do lift the restrictions, people would be travelling around and crowding again.
As of now, I don’t face any financial problem as such. But obviously, isn’t everyone affected financially? People employed by the college might still be receiving their salaries. But it’s been a while since we’ve been on campus: February, March, April – it’s been three months. That’s the problem. We can’t do anything about it either, except sit in our rooms. Thankfully, there’s no problem with availability of food and other essentials here. The main problem is not being able to go home. I can somehow manage here. Even if I send money home, they can’t go to an ATM to collect it because they’re only allowing people to go out for essential goods and services. So at home, they might be facing a few problems financially. Kannur (my hometown) is really affected as there are a lot of people who returned from the Gulf, so it’s understandable. They don’t realise how harmful it is (to wander around). In Kasargod, one man gave the disease to everyone, right? If he had been careful, the spread could’ve been mitigated. Similarly, in Delhi, a lot of people gathered together. That’s the problem. I don’t think the situation will be alright even after this month. The number of cases is only increasing.
The biggest thing I miss about NLS is the fact that I don’t have anything else to do now. I’m stuck on my own. I watched movies for the first week, but now I’m fed up of movies. How many films can someone watch? (laughs) I switched to a six month post-paid plan so I could make maximum use of it.
Padma Ma’am
Supervisor of the UG Course in the Academic Administration Department
I couldn’t spend quality time with my two daughters earlier, but now I am finally spending time with them. My day includes cooking a variety of dishes, playing indoor games with my children, taking care of my mother who is 86 years old and watching Maha Bharath.
Apart from that, I am working from home and giving as much time as I would have if I was working in the office. The only difference is that I don’t have physical files to refer to and work. Therefore, I am finding it difficult to address all the students’ queries and attend to faculty needs satisfactorily while working from home.
I miss our students a lot. I am extremely attached to the NLS campus, office and students as I have been completely involved in work and committed to NLS since 1989. I miss everything at NLS.
Jayaram Sir
Owner of the printing shop at the NLSIU Library
I am not in Bangalore as of now. I have gone back to my hometown, which is about 20 kms from Tumkur. My life during the quarantine is very boring. There is nothing that we can do, we are jobless (laughs). My network is also really bad so it’s difficult to speak to people. I only watch movies on TV, which also becomes boring after some time. We own a plantation, but there is no work going on. Since we aren’t supposed to go outside, and with the increasing uncertainty, the 7 people in our home just spend time with each other. We play board games, like Chowka Bara (chuckles) or chess at times. That’s is my only time pass strategy.
My finances are the biggest problem in this lockdown. Sure, we have been asked to return to campus on the 14th of April, but with the recent spike in the number of cases, who knows what is going to happen? Unless something is found or something is done about it, we do not know anything for sure. We have suffered a lot due to this lockdown. No one is working from our family, and it’s a complete loss now. All we can do is subsist on savings, and we don’t even know how long that will last. I don’t know how I will be able to manage. It is very difficult to stay away from business for a long time.
What can I miss in NLS apart from my printing/photocopying business? Since my only job in NLS is my business, which is what earns me money, it’s the only thing that I really miss right now (sighs).
Usha Ma’am and Beena Ma’am
Administrative Staff at the Vice-Chancellor’s Office
We are taking all possible precautions and are spending our entire time in the house. Indeed, sometimes it is very difficult to spend the whole day in the house. But we don’t have a choice because it is an issue of the health of the entire country which cannot be compromised at any cost. We are spending time by reading books, getting in touch with our relatives, meditating, exercising, and taking good care of our health.
We are working from home. However, as we are non-teaching staff, we are not in a position during this lockdown period to do all the work that we used to do while being in the office. The University authorities were very quick in taking the decision to start online classes so as to see that the loss to the student community was minimised to all possible extents. Even the non-teaching staff are attending Zoom meetings which is a new learning experience for all of us and we are happy that we can contribute in some way under these extreme circumstances. As staff of the Vice-Chancellor’s Office, we are arranging and attending meetings, coordinating with different departments, getting in touch with concerned officials via the phone and through mail and are doing our part to the best of our abilities under the prevailing circumstances.
What we miss most is interacting with students. We also know as parents, how difficult it is for the students to cope under these circumstances. However, we expect all of you to make the best use of the facilities made available to you by the University at a very short notice and continue your academic pursuit. At the same time, do take care of your health, have fun and we would like to see the same confident, smiling, and active students back in the University at the earliest.
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“Let’s chill at Chetta”. The phrase I’ve heard most repeated by first years after “Are you done with your projects?” At least we’ve got our priorities in order. Now, Chetta opened about 2 weeks into our time here at Law School. We, first years, had already been so hyped up about how we were absolutely going to love it. So when it finally did open, I was underwhelmed. Ever since, I’ve been trying to figure out what the hype was really about?
To be fair, Chetta isn’t terrible – it’s a fairly decent shop with a variety of everything. But the ice cream tastes like… well, ice cream. The Maggi isn’t long enough to slurp, and they don’t have Piknik. So I’m here wondering, why is everyone in love with Aiswarya bakery?
If I were to think as a student of Economics I, I would think that it’s the theory of supply and demand. There is absolute scarcity of places that will supply you with an ice cream sandwich without the considerable effort of going outside campus, therefore we are all drawn to Chetta for our daily dose of happiness (read: junk food). Additionally, there’s the positive network externalities. Chetta is where the entirety of gossip from all over law school makes its way to, so to stay in the loop you have to be there. Also, at any given point in time if you’re suffering from boredom or anxiety, Chetta will have at least one person from the first year batch who also cares more about jam buns and lemon tea than the impeding project submissions. However, economics fails me in that whenever I go to Chetta – I seem to forget about my budget constraints and cease to be a rational consumer. A rational consumer would not be broke a month into law school. After all of this analysis, I should hope that I don’t have to give an economics repeat but it’s still very likely that it will happen.
Economics did a fairly decent job of helping me understanding the hype, but often, I still don’t understand the surge of love everyone in law school has for Chetta. However, some cold evenings eating hot cheese maggi, some nights singing “happy birthday” and stuffing our faces with cake, sitting in Yamuna past midnight when you hear people laughing and singing like they don’t have a care in the world … on such days, I get the hype. For most Law Schoolites, Chetta is more than just ‘Aiswarya bakery’. It’s the unending supply of chocolate when you just cannot stop crying. It’s lemon tea, music and friendship. It’s warm coffee and laughter. It’s comfort food; and God knows, we need all the comfort we can get, so far away from home.
For me personally, Chetta is a safe space less than 200m away from the library but miles away from the hassle of books and projects and first trimester in general. It’s a place I won’t find someone reading Carr, automatically sending me into panic mode (Disclaimer: don’t talk to me about projects at Chetta). It’s a place that gives me solace in knowing that midnight Maggis aren’t exclusive to home.
So, despite the PDA and wobbly benches, maybe, even if I did have abundance of choice, I would pick Chetta.
]]>Meme Credits: ‘Chitragupt’ (Batch of 2022).
‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness’ – it was legit, it was a scam. Charles Dickens was truly prescient when he began his masterpiece by introducing the dichotomies that plague human life. And when we mean life, we literally mean all of it. But for now, let’s talk about Law School (because hey, this is a Quirk piece, not an Atlantic article). Look around you. Some of your batchmates study, some don’t. Of those who do, some study in the library, some in the acad. Some eat at bistro, others at Rohini. Some sleep early, others late. Some you will say are (as the law school lingo goes) elite and some aren’t. You get the gist. But all of these dichotomies exist, and flourish, under an overarching superstructure which is based on a giant dichotomy itself – you guessed it – the legit/scam dichotomy.
The legit/scam dichotomy is all-pervasive, it is ubiquitous and it covers every single aspect of what we perceive to be part of law school life. Right from legit and scam seniors, to legit and scam internships, legit and scam batchmates, not even the mundane is spared. For instance, Acad wifi is legit, library wifi is a scam. Chetta maggi is legit (<3) and Nestle’s is a scam, LC is legit, new acad is a scam (wink wink). But all of these manifestations of the legit/scam dichotomy are relatively docile and fairly harmless. However, there exists one, which, if not handled carefully, threatens to shatter life (whatever little you have of it in law school) faster than Daenerys burnt down King’s Landing. It is the be-all and end-all, the x-factor that supposedly makes law school the Harvard of the East and is responsible for making a trimester the stuff of absolute dreams or your worst nightmare – Courses.
How? Well, it is all too easy to say if you study well, you will score. But, sadly, that is only true for the *miniscule* number of ‘legit’ courses we have. You will receive a lot of gyaan about those – from seniors, professors, the ASP, the Shadow-ASP, your friends, the law school grapevine – basically anyone with the ability to communicate. All of this will hopefully result in you scoring well in your legit courses, which is a good thing. But to this Dr. Jekyll of Law School is the Hyde of scam courses. The arbitrariness and abundance of scam courses establish the importance of learning the art of mastering them, failing which your much-coveted CGPA will remain as stagnant as the water in the pond outside TC. So here we are to help you get a sense of what constitutes this crucial but criminally neglected skill of navigating, surviving and hopefully thriving in a scam course. But first things first.
What is a scam course? Our 2.5 year long voyage has taught us that there is no single identifier of a scam course, no set formula which one can use to quantify the scamminess of a course. It is, however, important to establish that there is a discernible difference between an easy, chill course and a scam one. It is that lack of arbitrariness yet the feeling of freedom which distinguishes the former from the latter.
Scam courses are a genus unto themselves, with every individual scam course an individual species. Therefore, here is our own unique taxonomy of scam courses in law school. (A caveat though. Our quest to discover the entire spectrum of stones for our gauntlet is still fairly nascent, and therefore this taxonomy is only suggestive. Like the ocean, a large portion of the scam course ecosystem remains to be discovered)
- The Bring-your-pillow-to-class Scam Course
Fundamental features: Professors that let you exercise your human rights to sit in the last bench, use your phone and catch up on sleep.
Occasional features: Professors who are gifts to humanity who welcome you into class at 9:48 understanding that you were truly, in fact, making a project late into the night. Also professors who purposefully skip the maths of finding out the difference between those who say ‘Present!’ and those who are. And who also do not mind variations in this number even when there is a mass evacuation from class resembling a Lok Sabha walkout in protest of the Triple Talaq bill.
Optimal way of using time: Sleep, simple and sweet. It’s a rare luxury in law school (whether due to external circumstances or one’s own doing), learn to appreciate it, and therefore, sleep. If your slumber in the night before class was satisfactory, however, read a book, newspapers, magazines or anything which you want (the course RM is also an option…). Or just stalk your crush on Instagram.
Tricks of the trade: Grow your hair out → buy a pair of bluetooth earphones → leech off your friend’s Netflix account → Finish two seasons of Narcos.
- The Pull-your-hair-out Scam Course
Fundamental Features: Professors who think they are Bhisma Pithama and Gilderoy Lockhart rolled into one, fantastic human beings and every student’s dream. Except that they are not. Not even close. They are just annoyingly arbitrary individuals whose droning voice will reduce your IQ if you pay attention to them. They make it a point to make your seemingly decent day a reminder that life is nasty, brutish, and short.
Occasional features: Cold calling you to answer questions which have left them genuinely dumbfounded. Or worse, imploring the batch to ‘challenge’ itself through discussions and then beginning a sleep-inducing monologue. Assigning cringe-worthy action-based titles to people like SleeperMadam and MobileMan.
Optimum use of time: Getting thrown out of class (only after attendance though), at the risk of a bad viva but hey, old people are forgetful. Perfecting-your-sleeping-with-eyes-open skills you learnt on your trip to Area 51.
Tricks of the trade: Grab the seat next to the window for a distraction, and to contemplate why you’re doing law, why CLAT, why NLS… In the alternate, improve your doodling skills, tic-tac-toe strategies or the art of surreptitiously using your phone in class (believe us, you’ll figure out a few new ones along the way).
- The Blink-and-you’ll-Miss-it Scam Course
Our encounter with a course in this category has been recent, but we’ve realised that it merits its own category as it is truly unparalleled, and frankly, the closest thing to providence shining its divine light on us.
Fundamental features: Such a distinct numerical lack of ‘classes conducted’ (but don’t tell Edchemy) that the course and the Professor remain a myth to this day. Legend (and our CR) has it that the course is underway, but then so is Brexit.
Occasional features: N/A as we are aware of the existence of only one such course.
Optimum use of time: Don’t go looking for the course, the teacher, or the reading material. Let it remain a myth while you bask in the two hours of free time you get.
Tricks of the trade: Wake up in the morning → Look at the time table → Look at the WhatsApp text where the CR says ‘No class today’ → go back to sleep.
4. The We-don’t-have-a-“professor” Scam Course
We would like to think they were a relic of the past, but their inclusion in our taxonomy is as a result of the sheer frequency of their reappearance.
Fundamental features:
- No (real) professor.
- A human being who, under delusions of knowledge, takes classes in said professor’s place, and;
- Ruins the subject for all students.
Occasional features: A loooot of section reading, statutory interpretation in light of the judicial backdrop or the backdrop of our brains collectively going on vacation for 2 hours.
Optimum use of time: Getting on the good side of your CR, if you haven’t already done that, and hoping that she/he gives you attendance.
Tricks of the trade: Go to class → look at the time → bang the tables at all of the jokes of the human being teaching you → look at the time again, and sigh if it’s not time for the break yet.
And there you have it. A classification of the worst law school will throw at you. And we know it looks dreary. But fret not, despite the almost complete lack of control over your performance, the silver lining here is that some things work. As the tagline for Apsara ran many years ago – ‘Extra marks for good handwriting’. And highlighting. And perhaps an all-nighter the day before the exam. That should be enough to add another of that coveted 15th letter of the alphabet to your transcript.
However, there is just one last thing. Amidst all the talk about binaries, dualities, dialectics, and dichotomies, we’ll leave you with another little dichotomy as food for thought – the one within you. What will you do when you’re in one of these courses – will you change yourself to deal with a scam or will you choose to make it legit and take the road less travelled? That is what makes all the difference.
Driven by Gut, Lads Ditch Moot for Noble Cause
November 11, 2018 | Aman Vasavada and Lakshmi Nambiar
In a classic case of need-based innovation, Nagarbhavi Laa College has finally caught up with the Bengaluru startup culture. Himalaya Ltd., a hyperlocal delivery startup aimed at procuring affordable food for children in desperate need, was founded by inmates of the Himalaya bunker on Thursday amidst a severe hunger crisis.
The said crisis was largely due to the non-presence of Chetta for several days into the trimester, leaving hundreds of 20-year-old children starving. This was something that the MootMonksTM knew only too well, given their penance in Himalaya throughout October. Disillusioned by the perils of MootMonkingTM, they turned to charitable entrepreneurship and tried to cheer up the young and ravished inmates of Himalaya by lighting diyas, but much to their dismay, the only things that lit the night were the tips of cigarettes.[1] Then their mind lit up, and they realized that the way to a broke inmate’s heart is through their stomach.
Thus was born Himalaya Ltd. – a “need-based innovation” startup, vernacularly classified as “jugaad”. Its business model was simple and ingenious: Exist. Merely by virtue of its existence, the company is eligible to avail all sorts of corporate discounts and privileges. On the very day of its inception, Himalaya Ltd. successfully procured food delivery app BoxEight’s revered 25% corporate discount – which meant that for every three young and ravished inmates, one more inmate could be fed in the same expense. While this may sound like an ironic mockery of relentless consumerism, the venture has seen phenomenal growth overnight. Bistro’s dropping lunchtime consumer base, as empirically observed by us, is testimony to their success. Fifty inmates of Himalaya are now serving as directors in the company. They realise that they have five more years before their first Laa Firm salary, and their stomachs cannot wait that long. On Friday, the company secured 6.5 Crore seed funding from BoxEight, a food delivery app looking to tap into this young and ravished demographic.
A director spoke to our investigators at their Headquarters in the Himalaya Common Room: “I spent days MootMonkingTM in a deep, dark cave [aforementioned Common Room]. While the truth behind public international law still evades us, we know now that the truth of life is simply to pursue one sin and give up the rest of our primal desires. Ever heard of that sage who went to the Himalayas seeking enlightenment, only to realize that having a lot of sex is the ideal path of life? He chose lust; we choose gluttony.”
However, speculations have arisen about the future of Himalaya Ltd., now that Chetta is back (as was evidenced by the uncouth yodeling down the halls of Yamuna by an ecstatic customer who first saw those shutters half-open) and also fully in service (although he sometimes falls short of lemon tea). It remains to be seen how important a role shall be played by Himalaya Ltd. in a post-Chetta-less world. In any case, we trust that the Nagarbhavi Laa College’s AWOL Entrepreneurship Cell would be immensely proud of this unprecedented greenfield venture.[2]
[1] While we do not have scientific proof, our spot surveys indicate that on average, famished people tend to consume more cigarettes per day. It is humbly suggested that the DISCOs co-ordinate with the MessComms and with Himalaya Ltd. to work against nicotine proliferation.
[2] Edit (dated 7 January 2019): The Entrepreneurship Cell is no longer AWOL; possibly revived by virtue of this editorial suggestion arising from this cutting-edge investigation.
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