Coatable Quote

The top honours went to the home team of IIT Madras, which depicted men dancing with one ball each.

- Newsletter Coordinator on Choreo-Nite

U for UNR

The expression on the two spectators must have made you realize that the ***** going on here is nothing less that the Ram-Bharat milaap scene of Andaz Apna Apna. Whoever said that the duo believes in over dramatization!

Below is an interview of a newsletter coordinator (bossed by PR core) by a visitor of http://blog.saarang.org/2007/11/01/you-3/

“Who are you?”

A question is but a squirt of inquisitiveness or a test of edification which, in the status quo, happens to be an insult of omniscience. The only righteous response to a question is an answer. Our answer is “We are he". The feminist fingers can hereafter rest in peace for this is mere boisterousness of male emancipation in its quest for the Holy Grail.

“Oh, whatever...but what do you do?”

To do or not to do - that, my friend, is not even a question. It's a mere mortal's fight for attaining martyrdom in the battlefield of procrastination. We have been doing that for ages and can continue to do so. But, for the unflinching and undaunted nitwits we are, we set out for inking the unbridled ubiquitous utopia of Saarang by the ukase of Uncle Duck(y). Unction is in the offing for taking umbrage and those unassuaged by the uncanny unctuousness are hereby lent freedom to be unwontedly uncouth. To put it simply, we upbraid and we do that to everyone.

“What the fish is this ‘U’ thing?”

The public usage of the thing mentioned by you in an air being inhaled by any IITian is an act of utmost profanity which may trigger fatal epileptic fits and I urge you to stop doing that right away. We were asked to tell you that this Saarang it's you, or rather the both of you. So we are just doing our duty, you see. Puff! Sigh! Don't you ever mention that thing again!

“Oh, go climb a mountain. I know what you did last winter. Completely failing to connect those S for Saarang words and then failing all over again with N for Newsletter words have driven you bananas. Here you are, making a forced and convoluted attempt with U for u know what.”

Gawd! She’s good!

S for Saarang: New(s) Letter

Q. Give a short account (200 words), of the most depressing incident that has ever happened to you. And how that's left you scarred for life.

It was spring! The weather Gods went romantic and the white angel clouds embraced the sun. The Saarang aroma was aphrodisiac enough to let me wander from food-stalls to IC & SR and back. The Airtel girls were showing it off really well. But it was just that they had too many admirers and I was turned-off. Just then, a hand rose amongst the crowd (man)handled by the Informals Coords.

It was a marble-hand raised gracefully at an angle most suited to attract attention. I am still trying to measure it in my dreams but to no avail. As she was called upon the stage, I could clearly see her upper half of the body rising from her low-waist and her right hand making an unsuccessful attempt to veil the exposed (waist) by pulling her tee down . The message was straightforward "I am the girl your mom warned you about". I instantly admired the tee-makers.

The not-so-formal coords asked her to hold the mic without using her hands and share a fantasy with the audience. The crowd was enthralled. I wished her luck. She held it between her neck and left shoulder. "Hi Saara.." and the mic fell. She was disappointed. They asked her to leave. I was shocked.

Either the coords wanted to get her away from there and catch her in private with an evil intention of fondling her in the name of consolation or the cores selecting such coords have become too easy a prey to the pseudy appearances they display, carrying a heavy-looking bag even to the bog. My 798.6th crush was brutally crushed as she walked out of the campus in despair and all I was looking at were the collars of the coords. The very purpose of Saarang, need I mention, was openly refuted and the meanness of some arrogant species, the so called Coords cum Gods kindled a fire of vengeance in me for years to come. Let them know that here I am, applying for the newsletter coordship.