"It's raining", shouted Horny.
"Oh yeah, bitches", chimed in CV.
"Chal na Tiny let's drench ourselves", Horny could barely restrain his joy. CV and Shababi laughed out loud, calling us jerks in a way only they could. Shababi, with the ever-ready poker face and CV, well, was CVesque.
'Twas a short walk, a round trip around the library, overlooking the already flooded LKP. But drenched we were. And froze we did in the PP class immediately after that. Wet, the girls in class were too. But Horny's eyes were screaming, "Not enough! Not enough. Secret 7 is so dry". "Chill kar Horny. Tu use dorm bula le, mai dunk kar dunga", CV added with his typical what's-wrong-with-these-guys-why-can't-they-think-of-this-themselves look. And with a sigh that came too late, Horny admitted defeat and lost himself in the drone of the session.
"Tiny, fachcho ko tang kare?", Horny burst out immediately after the class. He needn't have asked for it was just the thing on my mind. The first rain in WIMWI and fachche sleeping peacefully? No way..!
And trouble we did the fachchas. And miffed they were. Content we were, both of us. Laughed they did, CV and Shababi. Chichora also put up a special appearance from the top, the zen like attitude intact, declaring us retards. RC goaded the NSITians laughing at their childish ways and the hoax baap shouted out, "Yeh Tiny meri kitni leta hai yaar". PD laughed, Guruji smiled. But the innocent looks everybody pined for never emerged. And then we lost ourselves in the daily routine that makes such moments so cherished.
The tuchchas talk of dorm bonding. They talk of making friends for life. But they never speak of how. Or this. When the entire dorm comes out and has fun as one. Unnees, a way of life, as Z would say. Unnees. 19. The Singhs.