Reality Shows. Yes it does.

I do not happen to be a star, someone famous, or someone whose opinion should be taken into consideration. But this note stands as my disagreement to the fest that was Blitzkrieg 2010. Believe me or not I had been pondering over my choice to write this note from 4 days.

Sometimes, things affect you in certain ways that you just cant avoid it. I shant say that Festivals is all that is left of BMM. The Baap of BMM to me has remained to be Sudhakar Solomon Raj, right from the first day i set foot into this wonder of a course.

Keeping that aside, there is a certain zing i look forward to in festivals, and though there's quite a lot of it in Polaris amidst the love and Power horse overflowing, i couldnt notice it during Blitzkrieg. Primarily because i was turned off, and secondly because of treatment, which in older times would be nothing short of racial discrimination. It had appeared to a certain someone, that the contingent under the name of "Crosstrack" disappeared from the auditorium at most times. I do not think that the 4 rows of grumpy, placard holding, flag-waving menaces were given justice.

In the times where one promotes a short film event as ever so niche and exquisite, the results, are damn sure, questionable, with all respect to my fellow BMMites.

I have also made up my mind to never as hell, play trump cards in a game, for fear of a certain contingent, bending results, just to prove me wrong perhaps.

In what was proclaimed as an exhibition of creativity on the 22nd and 23rd of january, i should have rather paid tributes to my friends in Nerul by attending their fest, where most of the entries, were ACTUALLY justified.

I refuse to take names in this catfight for fear of getting some of the muck on my dear friend's clothes, but i would just reccomend the BMM departent of the reputed college in Churchgate to atleast try and "get their facts right" the next time around.

And I hope and pray, that the collection of like-minded and cheap fare just opposite Chowpatty reflect my opinion, in the favour of genuine competition.  Ambitious and pure

I Love my Class.

As i enter the fourth semester in my ever hectic Mass Media Course at Wilson College. I brace for four months of crazyitivity, awesomeness, and "randi"-giri. I could've not been any more happier than i am now. I feel reassured that I took the right steps by entering wilson for studies. I feel stronger. The kind of feeling that rises from within.

Much of that, i'm sure, is not because of me. No, its DEFINITELY not me. Its the other people i chose to call classmates. Phuck. Classmates seems to official a word. For people who know you inside out. These groups of people give you so much reassurance! I've got diet advice, fashion advice, food advice, Girl-charming-lessons, and God knows what not from these people.

And as the rather eventful season of College Festivals begins. I can only dream of how much more close ill get to these maslims. These bo bantai bamai phucks. And i'm waiting. Im waiting for those moments of bliss. A Crowd coming together to support their Phucked-up contingent. A Band playing on stage, together, for the first time. A group of talented phucks putting up an awesome act. Not only because of the joy of winning. More so because of the togetherness those rare-to-occur moments will generate. As the title obviously says, "I Love My Class". ANd i will screw anyone who messes up with 'em. This is the first tym that i have actually been a part of a group for quite a long time without being kicked out, and i'm on a high.

As i sat in Mckenzie today, i could only think of how many more long afternoon-turned-evenings would we be spending in that place. And it definitely felt very promising.

So here's to my next semester, my college, my colleagues, and one hell of a mad-capped class......