This piece of prose is dedicated to my friends, the good times I have had with them. And to ICS which made all this possible.

Confessions of a would be graduate

I still remember Marina Khan. 10 ‘0’ clock in the morning, one cold Friday in November, the year 1989. She was sitting in a grey charade, waiting outside IBA’s city campus, obviously for someone who was inside. I naturally assumed the someone had appeared in ICS’s test and was bound to qualify.

That’s how I got in. This was before her marriage, just after Dhoop Kinary. And for the first few weeks in the first semester I waited in vain for a grey charade to show up. They should up all right, three different models, but there was no Marina Khan. Tough luck. I suppose this is the price you pay for being star struck.

Those were early days. Eighteen years olds were in plenty. I was just an intermediate, still wet behind the ears and very angry of Marina’s relative for flunking the test.

This is how this particular tale got started.

March 4th, 1990

The play’s over. Atleast we have stop frequenting the city campus more than our campus. It was nice. The whole group rehearsing on the lawns of IBA. It was a big flop. And we even netted two eggs. Rumour has it that Amir Ali merchant was behind it. And to think that Kheiri almost gives it up. He’s very sweet. So are the other seniors. They are the only incentive for staying in this place. Come to think of it my classmates aren’t that bad either. As incentives ofcourse. If it wasn’t for the assignments and the dumb mainframe life would have been much simpler. My first Pascal program was written by Amir Khan. I suppose this is something to be proud about. A prime number program in Pascal by Amir Khan for me. Asra almost caught me.

I have completed the first dozen of my crushes. It’s a mixed collection. One teaches assistant, seniors, a few in the group plus a lot more. If I wasn’t paranoid about some one going through my diaries I’d even name a few. But…. . Picnic was like now. All of us were thrown in the water. I think I am beginning to like college. The workload I can do without. The incentives I can’t.

March 20th, 1990

Flunked all three of my midterms. The only subjects I did well in were English and Islamiat. But like Hasan’s Ammi said, they didn’t send us here to study English and Islamiat. Made a few good friends. Atleast it helps in doing the assignments. I thought I liked physics. Now I am glad that I didn’t take it up full time. Asra is very nice. She’s helpful. So is Sheeba. She our receptionist. Javed Sahib is one tough dean. One of my friends can read hands. He told me that till the middle of the third semester I would flunk every midterm. Then I will get used to it, assuming I don’t get kicked out first.

Note passing is one the increase. Its getting to be an Art. There are times when it’s the only possible way to stay awake. We wrote a complete poem today while ZN was teaching Calculus. It’s called “If the sky was red and the moon was pink”. I like the evening chats. Me, Kheiri, Ali and Hasan stay back to do our assignments. They are good friends. Especially Subzi. He really has a way with words and he is spreading it around.

March 25th, 1990

A very weird thing happened today. Fawzia passed around chocolates in the canteen. The poor kid was mobbed from all four side by all kind of different people. And I still haven’t gotten over it as yet. We have killed for the bounties she was offering today.

You don’t share chocolates, you hog them.

April 15th, 1990

I discovered THE CONSPIRACY. Our COLLEGE IS not a college. It’s a top-secret government lab funded by U know who. Their purpose is to come up with a generation that won’t need food or sleep. Work will be their replacement (for food and sleep). And us poor kids are being used as guinea pigs. (Can you believe that). So far they have made marvelous progress. We are down to two meals a day and an average of five hours of sleep. And quite a few of us have forgotten what a holiday is. This is just a part of this devious conspiracy. Guess what I discovered about the gorgeous creatures called seniors. Initially they were also guinea pigs but have now graduated and joined hands with the establishment. Their job is to provide incentives for the guinea pigs to stay.

I think I am turning into a poet. So far I am the only one who thinks so. I think that life is a never-ending mars bar (at times it gets so sweet that you get sick of it). Nomi on the other hand doesn’t think so. He’s one of Kheiri’s more cute friends. He said, “Life is a green Frisbee. Aren’t you glad that it isn’t orange”. Hasan on the other hand thinks life is a member of the canine species (family). Today I also learned that periods are called classes in our college. Seniors, seniors and yet more seniors. So what if marina Khan didn’t make it.

May 12th, 1990

The finals are here. Nobody appreciates poetry (or poets) in our college. Atleast that’s my impression. That’s what I am doing these days. Write poetry. I suppose it’s because of the infinite sadness caused by my dismal performance in the finals. English and Islamiat went nice, Physics didn’t. All the derivations I worked on last night, disappeared in the morning.

August 12th, 1990

All the good-looking seniors are going to graduate. This is a major shock. Even Asra’s left. I hope some one in my list joins as a TA. Fat chance though. We have a new teacher. He is not new. But this is our first course he is going to take. Name’s Wadood. Life is so amusing. Khairi and I have been laughing our heads off over the poodle joke. We have a teacher who resembles Elvis Presley. It’s funny that no one else noticed this before. In the honour of our discovery our class has named him Elvis.

September 23rd, 1990

College is getting tougher. Learned the use of CTRL QA in turbo Pascal. Wadood has been bombarding us with assignments. The bad part about it is that he believes in demos. We have a built in Wadood Alert alarm system in the PC lab. Every time he passes the pc lab all traces of the printing in progress are removed. Worked so far. Life would be so much easier without demos, or Wadood. Like Hasan said today “The only way the deadline can be extended is if someone ends up in an accident.”

The only good thing about December is that soon the juniors will arrive. All of us are looking forward to them. Khieri, Hasan and me have made elaborate plans, even marked out boundaries. I hope a decent batch shows up.

I have finally learned to play a bearable game of volleyball

October 25th, 1990

Something is definitely wrong with me. I am beginning to like the mainframe. It’s peaceful in there. Atleast you can concentrate on what you are doing. Maybe the sole reason for this particular crush is that I am not as yet a proud owner of a 80x86 Intel processor. Woody is very considerate. Although popular opinion is that he must hate our guts to put us through what we are going through. Still he is a real nice guy. And the paper he makes. God, you haven’t seen a midterm until you have attempted one of his.

Have been flunking midterms with a regular frequency. Cal II is pure misery. Physics II is a little better. But ICS is the ultimate. I probably scored an all time low in the first two midterms. What I wouldn’t do for a passing grade besides working I still don’t know anything about filing records and hashing. And Wadood has given a 20 marks question every time on it. I think I will take a risk. He is not going to ask this again. Besides who has the time.

October 26th, 1990

He did.

November 1st, 1990

Today Kheiri went mad in the Canteen. He terrorized everyone with a drink in their hands. His technique was simple. He went up to a victim, asked for a sip and then drank the whole bottle in one sip. He got three bottles off Sohail, one off Choti, one off Fakhir and one off someone he knows. If this was not enough Amir Khan joined hands with him. The two of them made a more deadly pair. Even the Canteen is not safe anymore.

Was introduced to Mohammed Ali Sidduque. I think I broke my arm (rather he broke my arm). He is tall, dark and dangerous.

November 29th, 1990

Initial results are not at all encouraging. We made a scouting camp on the lawns of the administrative block. No major sightings reported so far. Maybe the parents of the good looking ones took care of the forms and we’ll get to see them once they get in. Even the total counter is zilch. According to reliable source only 12 have applied. Of course it would be different if all twelve get in.

Today Maqsood was finally awarded the title of CC. It stands for C cubed. And what that stands for is not printable. It’s too cool when the girls call him by that name. They don’t know what they are calling him and the poor guy turns red at the slightest provocation.

Woody did the ultimate for the third midterm. He locked us inside the PC lab and the mainframe. Imagine. Fared better on luck this time. Missed filing and hashing by just this much. He gave all of us a problem to solve and implement through a working program in three hours. Was probably the only one who couldn’t?

December 15th, 1990

It’s final time once again. Mr. Wadood Ahmed is breaking new grounds. ICS is probably going to be the first course I will flunk. He took a six-hour final. From 9 ‘0’ clock in the morning to three in the afternoon. We weren’t the only one. He subjected the data structure students to the same torture. It was a lovely paper and a lovely process. Tested everything that could possible be related to Introduction to Computer Science. Pity I didn’t know much.

Physics was even worse. Was up till 2 in the morning revising everything. Did zilch in the paper. Physics will probably be the second course I’ll flunk. Forgot everything but the end of the derivation related to the spherical field. I wonder what is going to happen to my CGPA. I wonder what is going to happen to me.

January 20th, 1991

Cleared Physics. The new batch in is a disappointment. It is in no way a replacement for Amrin, Asra, Shazia and Sehar. Every one is disappointed. I think the guinea pigs are in for a hard time.

We are going to do another play. Haven’t decided on the cast. Let see what happens. Ali Naqvi is going to teach us DCL. This is his first course with us. I love the first few weeks of a new semester. We stay late and play volleyball when every one else has gone home. Almost everyone is very liberal with the language. On each point, it is made explicitly clear to the other side what this side would do to them.

February 22, 1991

The graduation ceremony went very smooth. I think this was one of the best. Our play was better than last year’s. At least we didn’t get any eggs thrown on us. The sound system worked (for once). Amir Khan and Fawzia did a very good job. So did every one else.

Tragedy struck yesterday. Zehra told me that the one junior both me and Kheiri liked is engaged. We officially named the corner we frequent as the Dil Tota Corner (DTC).

March 15th, 1991

Ali Naqvi is one tough customer. He insists on time in everything. First we had Wadood now we have him. At least Wadood took six hour final in which you could do something. An takes a one hour midterm in which you can’t do anything. By the time you realize what the question is about, the time is over. He flunked almost the whole class in the first midterm. Quizes are even worse. From what I have heard, and seen on the notice board, the Files people are going through the same thing. Koi pardesi meray number lay gaya, jatay jatay DCL may zero dai gaya.

The Secretary of our foundation came over. Guess what he promised. All our classes are going to get air-conditioners. Now Note passing has turned into an epidemic. Asad has started charging for forwarding little chits of papers. Hasan and me have come up with a very very amusing past time. Both of us can change our handwriting. We have been bugging Fidaa lot lately. Anything more I say can be used as evidence to incriminate me. So I think I should shut up.

March 20th, 1991

We went for the picnic. Dunked all the freshmen. All the freshmen. Saif somehow managed to get away. He ultimately came back. Then we made a very good example out of him. He was dunked thrice by three different teams of seniors. And then once again to make it memorable for all of us. Someone came up with the brilliant idea of dunking all the teachers. We got AN, HQ, even Lodhi Saheb. Wadood didn’t like it at all.

I have always remembered what Fawaz Khalil told us on initiation day. “At ICS we are just one big family”. Although we haven’t done a very good job, but atleast our seniors did.

April 10th, 1991

We got the airconditioners. Asif said that it was not going to happen but it did. This is one cool change (forgive the pun).

My performance graph is going for an all time low. I suppose it will help if I stopped whispering terms of endearments into Faizu’s ears or writing love notes to Fakhir and Maqsood and listened to Waqar Sahib and ZN. The other day three of the guys went out of the back window, interchanged their shirts and came back through the front door while the teacher wasn’t looking.

New bodies have appeared on the horizon. One is LADA (Linear Algebra Dropout Association), the other is DDDA (Discrete and DCL Dropout Association). Hamid has come up with his own ICSSC. Ali Bhai is out of the Canteen business and so far no one else is in.

May 16th, 1991

I think I flunked Basic. I don’t know. This is one course, which didn’t click. I really was counting on the Final for a passing grade, but that too went kaput. AN closed in for the kill in DCL. Its bye, bye grades.

May 25th, 1991

Rumour has it that we are going on a tour after the summer. I plan to take a course. Rumour also has it that some guy is coming over from somewhere to teach us something about Neural Nets. I hope it works out.

I have got the chills these days. No matter how hard I try, eventually I will graduate. I am worried about working. Is it healthy? College I understand, college I like. But a regular 9 to 5 routine, formal dressing and probably no friends is something, which is definitely not worth looking forward to. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to study either.

Shazia is getting married and Wadood is leaving.

June 25th, 1991

I hit the fan today. I know its not proper usage. Something else is supposed to hit the fan, but something else did not and I did. That too with my head. Khieri said it proved what he has always said about me with respect to my head.

The ICSSC installed a few new fans in the canteen. It’s a noble gesture but takes some getting used to. I never use the floor. Have always moved over benches and on tops of tables. This is what I was doing when I walked into a low flying fan.

June 30th, 1991

Well Woody’s gone. And I miss him. We only did ICS with him. But he was a very nice person and a very good teacher. Felt lousy at his farewell.

Found a new way to beat the heat. Me and Khieri have marked out our very own wrestling rings in the far corner of the common room. When he is not around I play mini soccer with Atif, Hasan and Asad. Does a wonder for your knees and shirts. The cooling machine helps a lot. All this wouldn’t be possible without it. There is nothing like working out a sweat and then cooling off in front of the AC.

Date 16th August

Tour was lovely. We had a very nice time. Covered a lot of ground and saw the northern areas for the first time. Got to know my classmates quite well. Got to know the senior batch quite well. It was a great change from the routine life of Karachi. And we almost left Khieri behind in Sots.

I am sure Maqsood and Hamid will never, ever be the same again. We all left are stomachs in Hunza. (Inpired by the line” I left my heart in ….”). The summer hit was “Mera loo nahin available..”.

September 24th, 1991

It’s nice. Very private. Around 6, 6:15 in the evening. When almost every one else has gone hom. And we are there because of Salman Qureshi. We’s our new teacher. It’s the same on all evenings. Wether they are related to Salman Qureshi or not. Every one is getting late, everyone is in a hurry. The cars are waiting outside. And the minute the class is over the attendance take care of, most of the forty people I know, as my classmates are gone.

I normally look around for someone who’d care for a game of table tennis or a few baskets, or if the time permits even a chat. Have always checked the mainframe. Over the years it has become more or less a permanent habit. Tradition rather, step inside for a second or two, pay your silent respects to the cooling system and the 4331, look around and step out. There are just a few more places on the checklist. The road for familiar cars, the study for familiar bags and the labs which are normally empty. And finally the library. Gulzar will look up, the AC will be humming and a few hundred books will stare back at you.

October 15th, 1991

I am going to crack up. Salman Sahib is really pushing us this time. Simulating the CPU was easy, operating it is not. Every one is staying late these days. It happened before in files and DC, but this is the first time guys from our batch have stayed overnight in college.

This guy is like wow. He is making us eat, sleep, drink and think OS. Almost the same thing Woody did in ICS. Almost.

Subzi and Kashif work in the night and then sleep through Automata in the morning. Hilal Sahib doesn’t mind, but the worst affected is Madam. Assembly is not that bad, and she is a very good teacher. But what can you do when the row behind you and the guy next to you are sleeping.

October 23rd, 1991

My past tried catching up with me today. Namely Saif. We went for the picnic and the juniors somehow ended up with the crazy notion of dunking us. Us, the seniors. Saif, Ibrahim and a few more came after me. I went straight, in the opposite direction, then turned around and came back through the road. Hid in the kitchen till these guys settled down.

December 1st 1991

He crucified us. Salman Sahib took our demos today. The only good thing about it is that the OS chapter is closed forever. I have been up for the past two nights like most of my classmates. Hasan came over in the morning and we finished off the report together. Finally went to college around 4, after Fida’s frantic calls, only to realize we had left the program disk at home.

We borrowed the car from Kheiri, and made it back in all minutes (10 minutes, 47 seconds to be exact). Kids don’t try this at home. (Just for the record I live in Gulshan). Averaged a hundred and odd kph through out. It was no use, the program didn’t work. It was not suppose to. There was a lot of work to be done and he told us to finish it off before he went home.

This is where the good part comes in. Salman Sahib was in till mid night. Fayaz’s group was still left, when Salman Sahib’s father showed up.

December 31st 1991

I am going to miss my friends.

January 12th, 1992

So the New Year is in. Made a few decisions, had a lot of help. Let’s hope I can stick to them. It all seems so unreal. We are the final batch. There are no more seniors. It’s just us. Then how come I still feel like a guinea pig?

The new batch has arrived. Atleast it’s an improvement. Or over the year our tastes have deteriorated. Someone came up with a novel way of an instant review of the new bath. Go through the library cards looking for an imaginary book, or better yet a non-existing card. It’s advisable if Shana is not around.

Shiekh Sahib is taking compiler.

February 1st, 1992

They sabotaged the DTC with an air conditioner. Sacrilege.

March 1st, 1992

It’s a bit hard. Going around without people you are used to. Almost everyone is gone. Asra and Amrin left in the first year. Sahar left even earlier. Faisal has gone to LUMS. Woody off to Canada. Now these guys are gone too. Uzma, Fawzia, Zubair, Suhail, Urshia, Choti, Urooj. Yousuf planning to fly off to Kuwait, or Aga Khan, which ever comes first. Last I heard, Amir got a terrific offer from Habib group and went off to Quetta. Only me and Khieri are left. Subzi’s got a hole in his head.

The DTC is never empty (strongly rooted tradition?), but its not us. I suppose we had our time, and now it’s the juniors turn.

March 30th, 1992

I have created a monster. Not exactly. But that’s how the rest of the college views it. The one-man-portable-torturing-machine. Also popularly known in friendlier circles as Khieri.

We make a great theam. I select a victim, he tortures him. Our best one so far was Fakhir. We got him inside the study. Khieri started working on him. This guy dragged both of us out of the study, started rolling on the floor, and rolled all over to Madam’s room. Pus also succeeded in making A LOT OF NOISE. A very satisfying performance, definitely an award winner.

April 15, 1992

I love files and databases. Frankly speaking AN is one of the best teachers around. I liked him a lot in DCL (although my grades were not agreeable), but he has really excelled in F & D.

I have found a new target. Have know him for quite a few years. Name’s Kashif Memon………..

This tale is incomplete. For a number of reasons. Space for one. Inspite of popular gossip about my relationship with the chief editor. I still don’t own Online. Time for another. If I don’t stop now this articles would be retitled as “Confessions of a would be graduate who flunked his final semester”.

But basically as one of my friend goes, I don’t like goodbyes or endings. I know all good things must come to an end, but these years have meant so much. Its better if its left this way. May be in the coming years someone else will have the guts to complete it.

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