Winds Of Change

Winds Of Change

As NSITians, we whine over many things. We cry over the ancient syllabus. We whimper over the monotonous and dreary lectures. The fests do break that monotony for a while, but soon, it subsides to give rise to that sullen routine. Ghissus remain ghissus, velas remain velas and studs remain studs. Life doesn’t even pass. It just seems to drag on, stretching until forever. Our condition is no better than Schrödinger’s cat, both alive and…

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