Five Snaps and a Four Year Tale

We live in the past, nonetheless we vehemently protest the same. Yet there is always a fluttering of the heart, a breathless anticipation and waves of mirth rollicking inside us, when we peruse through the past. A simple device, yet the camera unleashes the real person inside us and strips one of the veneer shrouding our drab and dreary lives. Well without further ado, I present the five snaps that evoke uncounted memories and a wish to relive the moments.

1. Awesomeness descends on Koilighughur.

The journey took a shade over five hours, deep into the Maoist ridden forests of Western Orissa. The unsettling and unspoken apprehensions turned into squeals of joy,at the discovery of a pristine waterfall snuggled in the midst of a verdant and virgin forest. Four hours later, in the freezing waters, the seven people in my branch, who made the drudgery of going to class everyday a bit less tiring. Guys, the best picnic ever.

2. Gung-ho at Goa.

It took me just about a minute to decide to leave for Goa, three hours before the train would leave for Mumbai. Bankrupt, ticket-less and without making my parents any more knowledgeable, I departed for Goa to experience the best weekend of my life. Four days, crates and crates of beer, uncounted cigarettes and a healthy dose of weed later, we discovered a simple motto for life. Let the circumstances go fuck themselves, just enjoy what is on hand. Aptly summarized by our Goa tag "fir bhi chalo".

3. E_Clan-We live to game.

I will always take pride that one of the greatest gaming clans ever at NIT Rourkela was christened by by name, albeit as a joke. But E_Clan was not just another gaming clan, it was a way of life where you needed to belong rather than prove your gaming prowess. We never won a tournament, yet we left an indelible impression on the gaming legacy of NIT Rourkela. AOE will never be the same after us. I just have one regret. We could never get the fourteen of us on a single snap.

4. B-Top-Perfection has another synonym.

Was there a more complete wing. I know C-Mid will be after my blood when they see this. But then, when was there competition among friends. The artistry of Amit, the financial genius of Kp, the understated brilliance of Debi, the 200+ IQ of Chirag, the stolid Bhuyan, the hacker-monster-leecher-gamer Zhenga, the simply himself Nuka, the King of good times Gyana, the Mr. Organiser Nk, the pre-evolutionary Pran, the impish Susi and the gentle giant Abhinab. We showed the rest how to have a weekend, didnt we guys.

5. EE-2010.

Period.

Do You Remember

Do you remember the look of the hills flush with the green of the summer rains when we first set foot here. The roads were wet, everything was green and verdant. We were green. The anticipation of treading into a new and completely unfamiliar way of life, at the end of which we were expected to become men from boys. I guess anticipation and a mute terror of responsibility lay heavy on every heart on that fateful day in June 06 when we decided to be students at NIT Rourkela. It would mark the beginning of the greatest epoch in our lives.

During the counselling time, the auditoriom did not look so swanky as it does now, with wooden tables and chairs and the blackboard dusty with chalk. The AV Hall had those awful,spindly chairs where we first met people with whom we would be inexorably attached for the next four years. Most of us must have shuddered inwardly when we had our first glimpse of the erstwhile Hall-3. Dark, gloomy and forbidding, it was dusty with neglect and the absence of denizens and cobwebbed with countless memories.
Do you remember the first day at hostel, our first glimpse of the warden KRP, and meeting our room mates. The nervous anticipation of our first day at college. I think bathrooms at NITRkl never witnessed a longer line for the next four years. The memory of us in formals, clean shaved, cropped hair being herded into a line for the entertainment of seniors. We were divided into zones , which paradoxically had a more unifying factor than a divisive one.

Do you remember the subsequent weeks. The crowding into autos to go to the station to buy necessary daily stuff, including cheap porn magazines. The mind numbingly boring classes of DG Sahu, the gradual gravitation towards the last benches, the realization sinking in that we were not going to see girls for the next four years, the ragging that was slowly getting mundane.

Do you remember us getting friends. The nite-outs, the apprehensive visits to JAM to sneak in a dinner without getting unwarranted attention from seniors, the GPL where my room was wrecked by the group slams. The sessions of khatti where we discussed everything from our sordid love stories, from girls to music, from our interests to general banal talk. We grew together in these sessions. Do you remember that antiquated PC of Chinu which became the hub of everything, from group porn watching to interminable sessions of playing Zatacka.

Do you remember those first exams. The first bonechilling winters of Rourkela, the tension of getting through with at least an eight pointer. And in the midst of that when everyone decided that Sushen should have his first bath in a month and it developed into the entire hostel bathing together in the corridors. Makes one laugh when you think about it now. Then second semester started and for the first time during the holidays we felt the absence of friends. It was the first time we realized what a second family means.

Do you remember when Beeshmoy and me tricked a hundred people into believing Peter speaks and the ensuing GPL that we received. My sides still hurt from laughter when I think of Anda and Sutta's reactions. By then most of us had got ourselves PCs and thus started the phenomenon of gaming that our batch will be remembered for. One chuckles when one remembers Mudu going from room to room to install CS. The afternoons of CS and AOE, the cacophony Zhenga created when we managed to beat Bibek at AOE are so hauntingly familiar. It was the beginning of the famous DZ and E_Clan and the rival Spartans and DRG Clans. Do you remember that Holi of first year, of Hadi clad in only leaves. Holi has never been so boisterous, so underclad ever since.
Second year began with the hoop-la of us being the seniors now with the impunity associated with ragging. That miserable first week when we had to sleep in half finished rooms, without electricity and running water in the B- block of Hall 7. Can anyone forget the day when 300 of us marched to protest against the unfair ruling in the ragging case against Bangu zone.

While the first year was about making new friends, second year was about developing a solidarity that transcended zones and languages and cultures. It was about getting initiated into branches. And what a branch Electrical Engg. has been.

Do you remember those long long chats in the room of Dipu. The outbreak of Herpes which mutilated the faces, bodies and in some notable cases the private parts of so many boarders in Hall 7. I remember being awarded the title of Herpes King by Dipu, something I wont treasure.I still remember that grand DSU Party where I was initiated to the pleasures of Whiskey. The herpes outbreak . I was taught the art of smoking by Nishank and Pranaya. I had become an engineer now I guess.

Fourth semester started with the panic of grade backs. I was not the one to miss out on that getting a back in Jack's paper. The engineering transformation was complete now. It was also the culmination of our writing skills with us transforming the institute magazine Renaissance from a lifeless tabloid whose sole purpose was to line the dustbins into Degree 361, which I for the first time saw being read by people. We had managed to turn it around by than 360 degrees.

Do you remember how we invalidated the concept of single rooms with me, Ari and Zhenga in the same room during the dying days of second year. It continued into third year with Zhenga and me still sharing rooms in Hall-2. I remember fifth semester for my whiskey heydays and our first entrepreneurial venture yaareyaare. It did not work out but was the precursor of the downloading spree that was to mark this year. This was also the glorious year of the most famous scooty we will ever encounter in our lives, the eponymous scooty of Hota, Chirag Hota. I hope in earnest that the scooty is preserved in Smithsonian for all generations to marvel at. I spent the best Puja Holidays of my life courtesy Ari and Navin in the North-East.

Sixth semester came and went in a flurry before we even realised it. It was the semester where I discovered the joy of beer and sharing. Sharing because there happen to be guys like KP and Debi around, who donot even mind sharing L'oreal stuff with impoverished people like us. Movies, Series, Dota, Beer binges and suddenly we found ourselves to be Final Years.

Do you remember the hope and optimism surrounding the campus when everyone was sure of landing themselves plum jobs. And it eroded as the companies decided to give us a short shrift. Desperation clouded the eyes with one unsuccessful interviews after the other. By the end of seventh semester it was a rush for any any job that came our way. Somehow or the other this semester has found most of us with some kind of a job. For my part, I celebrated minor successes and major failures at an unbelievable weekend at Goa with friends. Debi ran the naked mile after getting a call from IIM-A. We are still waiting for a treat from Bibek for XLRI and FMS. Farewell season has started with people starting to make guest lists and wondering about debt to be incurred.

I guess change is a constancy of life. The hills are barren now, bereft of any verdant vegetation. The auditorium and the AV Hall stand refurbished. The institute is a maze of construction and reconstruction. One doesn't see first years walking ina single file on the first day. In fact ragging is almost non-existent. People have lappies in the first year. They don't buy cheap porn magazines these days. Celebrity Nite is not held during the Spring Fest. Chirag's scooty is the verge of an honorable death. Saha spends more time with a girl rather than sleeping.

And the batch of 2006-10 is about to graduate in 40 days.

Howlers

After a long hiatus I return to a pet topic, Prof Bashing.

Some excerpts from our dear Profs
Physics HOD: Matter and Energy are two forms of the same thing. For example take a male boy and a female boy.

Now the next Prof boasts of a lot of enlightening comments. The stuff is more of NIT lore now.
Maths Prof: Yesterday I saw you in the market with my wife.
Maths Prof: Close the windows. There are a lot of atmospheric noises coming in.
( On the construction work going on upstairs)
Maths Prof: Its hot. Open the windows and let the atmosphere come in.
Maths Prof: Give me a red pen of any color.

Electrical HOD: Its very simple. Just multiply the 2 elements of the 2*2 matrix.
( On being told that the microprocessor kits were not giving results in case of matrix multiplication)

I desist from any further comments on this topic.

The Tale of my Spectacles

I remember the day I got my spectacles. Not that I needed them. The privilege of being a topper and the apathy of Stewart School teachers had long since made me immune to the fallouts of not listening in class. I will confess now. I got bespectacled coz my prevailing crush that time also started wearing glasses. Now don't ask me the logic behind all of it. Love, Infatuation in fact the entire genre is more stupid than blind.
Anyways within a few days of wearing the glasses, my crush was transferred to another girl who dint wear glasses.I also realised that I should have had a frame-less one done as it was the current rage. But thanks to two of my Neanderthal friends I was relieved of my spectacled woes when they found out that it was a shiny toy and could be substituted for a ball. Crashhh!!!
By the time I had the next pair I was discovering that I had to squeeze my eyes to slits to be able to see from the last bench(Now why I dint relocate to the first bench has been dealt with in my post We, The Backbenchers). By this time the power was somewhere in the range of -1.5. By this time people were beginning to identify me in Dumb-Charades when somebody aped that painful expression on my face when I wanted to see something at a distance. Anyways this pair also dint last long. I knelt over it as it was lying on my side while trying to reach for a book.
Another year passed. I entered engineering. Now I was even more loath to wear glasses as all my time in classes was spent napping. Besides all the money is diverted into more aesthetic pleasures such as smoking and drinking. Who is going to fork out a half a grand for a pair of glasses.
Now I had become used to people aping me and making fun of me. But what really hurt was the painful and accusing glances on the faces of my quiz partners when I couldn't ID Gene Kelly of "Singin in the Rain" fame. Matters really came to a head when after I uttered these memorable lines in Konark " Hey hey. Is that a gal in black shalwar over there. Plzz tell me if she is beautiful". This when every guy in the group was checking out that gal only. Really mortifying experience. Wont elaborate more.
So I had a third pair done. You may ask why I dint have a spare. No cash people and I couldn't offer that explanation to my parents as I was supposed to have not one but two spare pairs. But I had diverted the funds into more fruitful activities.
Anyhow the third pair also broke. I forget how, as it was getting too commonplace an event.
The next pair lasted a little more than 6 months. It survived the frenzied headbanging of the Opeth concert and trekking in Shillong but not a group hug. Someone became overtly sentimental and my glasses were knocked off.
I haven't had a pair made yet. And my power has surreptitiously grown to -2.25. Motivationally challenged, thats what I am. But the infuriatingly tiny print of my copy of The Fountainhead is making me go bonkers. So I have decided I will go in for my fifth pair today. Let us see how long this one lasts. And I think I have stumbled upon a truth. It is more from our carelessness than the natural deterioration of our eyes that keep the Optician's shop open.

A Treatise on the various slangs of Modern India

XXX-RATED!!!PROFANE CONTENT
READER’S DISCRETION IS DEEPLY ADVISED
Engineering institutes have such an oxymoronic existence. Glassy, multicoloured facades harboring dulled, grey brains inside. Wide, smooth roads going hand in hand with a ban on bikes. An incredible 20:1 ratio of boys:girls ratio. I suspect this ratio is more skewed if we take the ratio of (males+non-males):females. Galore of PhD holders who cant teach without peeking into chits every 5 seconds. Students who had more knowledge when they came in than when they pass out. Mess food that when consumed tries to defy the natural law of gravitation and comes out from the mouth rather than coming out from the ass. Slangs being the first words you get to imbibe from the mind boggling medley of languages.
Now slangs are hardly used literally. Rather they are used as punctuation, or emphasis, as innocuous a word as 'shit' or 'damn' or just a means of beckoning or referring to someone. Slangs can be endearing or really dirty. And the most fascinating fact about slangs is their common etymology and subject matter.
A very astute observation was made in Maximum City by Suketu Mehta. “The different countries of India can be identified by the way each pronounces the word bhenchod- from the Punjabi bhaenchod to the thin Bambaiyya pinchud to the Gujarati bhenchow to the Bhopali elaboration bhen-ka-lowda. Parsis use it all the time, grandmothers, five-year-olds, casually and without any discernible purpose except as filler: 'Here, bhenchod, get me a glass of water.' 'Arre, bhenchod, I went to the bhenchod bank today.”
By far the funniest and sweetest slangs that I have heard are from my Assamese friends. Its almost lyrical in composition and involves the juxtaposition of a lot of profanity. One of my favorites goes like this “maksudu sudirbhai bhonieksuda kotimora rokatkhuwa”. When translated it reads motherfucker brotherfucker sisterfucker………… The rest is too gross to go on. But the most famous assamese slang that will be etched in our memories is bal, the name with which one of my friends has been christened with. Its sister language Bengali possesses fewer expletives the most common one being bokachoda, or foolfucker or Khankir Chele meaning son of a bitch .
I personally find Oriya slangs a bit more coarse than Assamese and Bengali . The most popular ones being maghia, or motherfucker; or chhodipua, whose origins are very obscure and cannot be accurately verified. Gandimara or assfucker also reigns among some people. And there is also the punctuation slang banda meaning cock. But lets gloss over the remaining ones and go south.
Now my interaction with people from south is quite limited, mostly restricted to the indomitable gultis. Now the term gulti itself is a portmanteau slang according to popular literature but I cannot be sure. Gultis here have byfar adopted Hindi and Oriya slangs. The only discernible profanity from Telegu is lanja kodaka or son of a bitch. Now my gulti friends did not offer further co-operation in the debasing of their language. Down further south I am aware of just two slangs, Kunji Poo or a cock turd and mair meaning pubic hair. Incidendentally mair finds a place in our unofficial NIT Rourkela slogan.
Finally I come to the Hindi heartland, home to the most popular profanities. Suketu has already given a fine testimony to bhenchod. I need not describe more. Other than bhenchod we have got machod or in Bhojpuri madarjat, popularised by Ajay Devgan in the cult movie Gangajaal. Related slangs include maa-ki-ankh or maa-ka-bhosda or maa-ka lawda or maa-ki-chut. I haven’t gone deep into the etymology of bhosda so cant help with its meaning. Then there is randi-ka-pilla, jhaantu, gaandu, bhosdiwale, laude-ka-bal, betichod, tharki etc. Of course punctuaction slangs are galore like lund, lauda, chut, choddu etc. But the most common and loved slang is chusega mera or chus which of course means suck my dick. Men really do have a fetish for oral ministrations.
Anyways wrapping up, I feel that although these slangs can be very easily related to their anglicized versions they are deigned as uncouth, coarse and vulgar. People find motherfucker easier to say than madarchod. Probably many are under the illusion that hurling profanities in english makes you more polished, urbane and coool. Fool’s Paradise eh! :P

We, The Back-Benchers

The disturbance in my ears became a raging storm when I was rudely jolted from my afternoon siesta to find the furious Professor glaring at my face. Shaking off the last remnants of my dream I stood up swaying, and trying my utmost to stifle a yawn. As I hung my head down( the best escape mechanism that you can adopt in these sort of trying circumstances), the wizened professor decided that the whole class deserved to know more of my upbringing and mannerisms. The grooves in the wooden desk in front of me had never been more interesting. The swirling patterns and the whorls entranced me and interred me in the depths of their multitudes.
Finally the storm abated and I settled down to muffled giggles and guffaws. I yawned once or twice loudly just to see the professor getting livid once more. Chuckling to myself I once again lapsed into a state of ennui. My siesta broken and also not trying to push my luck further, I looked around to find my fellow compatriots in various states of inaction.
The Back-Benchers society is a self contained micro-cosmos having a life and intrinsic characteristics of it’s own. A plethora of disguised talents, misguided virtuosos interspersed with a multitude of jerks of varying intellectual faculty comprise our back-benchers society. There are also petenders who try to improve their social standing by forcibly ingraining themselves upon us.
Most of the people in my society walk more alive in their dreams than in reality. And those rugged desks and the peeling plasters of our archaic classroom sing a lullaby that can make you sleep like a log. Except for some rare occurances in the past history this tradition of ritualistic mass slumber has been interrupted very few times by our extremely qualified and ineffectual professors. The rollcalls are just minor footnotes in this epic ritual.
Bereft of avenues to show their artistic skills, some guys wreak their vengeance on the hapless desks and benches. Innumerable graffiti adorn them ranging from the banal to the esoteric, from doodles to protraits, from mindless scribblings to poems of longing. Dimmu Borgir shares the same space with the myriad imaginary girlfriends of Deepu and also the different clan names of gaming enthusiasts. There are also references into the linguistic depths of people who have taken pains to learn the slangs of every language and embellished the desks with their knowledge for all posterity.
The famed “addas” of Calcutta pale in comparison when there is a free period and the slumbering leviathans wake up to join the rest of the mortals. From the latest match of DOTA to the policies of Barrack Obama, from discussing the latest disgusting video to come out from the Ladies Hostel to whether one night stands are better than long term commitments,everything under the sun finds a place in the discussions.
There are also brief moments of action, glory and gory in the back benches. These are not flashes in the pan but rejuvenate us for a better tomorrow. The sight of Chatta at his frenzied best, the rustic humour of Deepu inciting everyone for a GPL to LoveAngle, the infuriating actions of Zondy, the group gropings of Umaga, the warcrys of Zhenga to the devilry and impishness of our sweet Gullu. We the back benchers survive each day to the memories of incidents as such.
I must confess I am really proud to be a member of such a group. Where else can you find a national level athlete, a world class hacker, a web designer, a photoshop guru, a robotics giant, magazine editors, a football captain, heads of a few clubs and not to mention the gaming fiends sitting all around you?
Before the bell rings for the next period, I also realisethat the back benches represent a mini-India with people from the far-off Andamans to the Khasi mountains, from our own babu-moshais to the shinde folk. Gultis and bhaiyyas, Uddus and Northies share the same desks with harmony. Quite a case study in cospolitan India, I think.
P.S. People of the front benches of my class who read this, Please read between my fingers.

20 Fool Proof ways of getting a GPL.

1.Bang all the doors of your corridor as loudly as you can at 4 in the morning during a weekday, preferably if there are labs the next day.

2.During a serious game of carom in the common room creep up slowly from behind a player and scatter the dots. If you can manage it at regular intervals the more chances of success.

3.Sit quietly with your friends who have been dying to see this suspense flick for ages (The Dark Knight…for e.g.) and because you have seen it before shout out the climax.

4.When sharing the only fag of the day which you have managed to procure with utmost difficulty coz of course all of you are broke, when it’s your turn take the fag and run.

5.During playing CS on the LAN, if there is a serious match going on don’t miss the opportunity. Flash and smoke your friends to oblivion.

6.During India-Pakistan 20-20 match pull the plug of the TV from its socket during a very critical moment.

7.Stand quietly behind a player when a heated match of 29 is going on and shout out his cards to everyone.

8.Send a love-card during Valentine’s Day in your friend’s name to some of the mammoths of the other species that reside in the Ladies’ Hostel. The uglier the specimen, the better reaction you would receive.

9.If you are from Mechanical branch make faces from outside the window to the hapless Electrical chaps coz of course you don’t have classes.

10.If you are of the Non-GMAT community attend the class when all the rest of your backbencher community has decided a mass bunk. Call the teachers personally.

11.During the class of Dr. Ghosh or some other dreaded Professor start hitting the ear-lobe of the guy sitting in-front of you.

12.Imbibe the Saha syndrome. Start being very intimate (physically) with your friends. If possible take off your pants in the middle of the room.

13.If one of your friend has been sent goodies from his home, and you have come to know of it. Don’t tell anyone and gobble it up all with your friend of course. Then start visiting everybody’s room remarking how tasty the food was.

14.In the early mornings quietly go into the rooms where communal sleeping is practiced. Smear toothpaste on someone’s nipples, paint moustaches and beards in marker pens and pour the foulest smelling powder on their heads. Just take care that you don’t make any noise and leave a note informing them that you were the perpetrator.

15.If you have unfortunately got a girl-friend go out with her everyday and describe what all you have eaten for Dinner to your seething friends. Better still, ask money from them to get a fag.

16.When people are busy playing on the LAN and their G-Talk ids have the message “Busy in a game. Dnd”, start pinging them away like mad. Buzz them; send them emoticons and stupid messages.

17.Start a rumor that the next day is a holiday. Cite the reason being some national bandh or whatever. People will believe you coz no one reads the papers.

18.Bore everyone by your rhymes, senseless songs and clichéd dialogues. For further information on this topic contact any guy from Mechanical Branch. They have written theses on the evolution of PJs.

19.When there is GPL going on in the quadrangle, incite the crowd from a balcony by throwing stones, water at them. Pull faces and make the declaration that no one has the guts to touch you.

20.A nasty but very effective tactic. Jack off on someone’s bed and don’t dispose off the stuff.

P.S. Tried and tested approaches.
P.P.S. 100% Guarantee from the author.
P.P.P.S. After a successful execution run like hell coz if you get caught you won’t live to tell the story.
:)

The Seven Stages Of Drunkenness

Weekdays at NITR is all about grey. The grey atmosphere, greying and peeling walls, greying professors and our own greying intellect. The whole charade is so dull and staid that I don’t think you would want to be me. Come to think of it, even I wouldn’t be me if I had the choice. So it is with a passion akin to deep seated longing, I await the weekends. But, alas time also plays strange tricks on us out here. It mysteriously warps itself around making the weekends so ephemeral and flitting.

My personal opinion is that most of us drink just to maintain sanity. By Saturday night I just salivate at the mere mention of drinks. By midnight, we the dregs of NIT society set about on the process of painting the town red. As my mind wavers during these bacchanalia I take a look around at my inebriated friends and see the stages we proceed through our drinks.

Verbose:- The hallucinating chords of Pink Floyd course through our system, taking our minds to a new high. Words seem to take a new meaning altogether as we hum alongside Gilmour. The aroma of neat whiskey anasthesize us to all the extraneous world. After the first three pegs,words flow from our mouths unbidden, like coins from a torn pocket. Never had the simple act of speaking seemed like a panacea for all our troubles. We talk about the past, that so frequently trod upon path making deeper grooves with each peg.

Amicose:- As the good feeling swells inside us, we sing paeans for one another, glorifying our virtues and dumping our faults in the collective mirth of drunkenness. Its these moments that last forever making you feel that “ If I am going to hell, at least my friends would be there”. As the drink slowly gets into the system we cut silly jokes, exchange pleasantries, laughing at one another and basking in our love for one another.

Grandiose:- The world is a small pool and we are the big fish in it. A trip to Goa, getting a perfect 10, nice dream jobs were never so real. Big men, big ambitions. We used to be people who used to be the torch-bearers of this generation. But this apathetic system has made us shrink so much that nowadays we cant even see what is in store for us ahead. We relive our days of glory, the days when a mere job hanging by a slender thread wasn’t the only way of redemption. Our crushed souls take new meaning out of life with every peg, opportunity seems to be around the corner.

Bellicose:- We take the sword to the cause of all our troubles. The antediluvian society, its archaic morals and rules tying us to the ground. Encumbered by desire and ambition we try to clear the obstacles besetting us. The insti, profs, G-mats receive their share of the choicest ma-behen galis.We feel relieved after venting ourselves.

Morose:-As much I would want it to be a mere footnote of my epic saga of drinking, people start breaking down. I admit sometimes I also feel on the brink of shedding tears. Nothing seems right, nothing is going our way. These are the most emotionally vulnerable phases of the night. I guess for us guys eight large pegs are needed to relive our darkest secrets. We contemplate everything that has gone wrong with our life. Sometimes with no else to talk to you, you even make the mistake of drinking and dialing your ex. Warning, it is at this stage guys like Hemingway have reached for the shotgun.

Stuporous:- By this time two bumpers have been downed. As we get up the head is heavy on our shoulders, the legs unsteady, the eye unseeing. People start bending over balconies and emptying all they have consumed the whole day. You get the feeling that the world doesn’t exist so you start peeing in the streets coz of course no one can see you.

Comatose:- People who can stagger back to their rooms, or others who have to be carried are all dumped unceremoniously on beds. The night is past and you know that when you wake up twelve hours later you will be having an almighty hangover and the dread of having to face the same routine all over.