Anatomy dissections got over at 1 pm. We left the hall frustrated and dejected because we had been ‘muddied’ (Tamlish word for ‘bajaoed’) by Madhavi or Marja (they were the iconic lecturer and professor of anatomy) or some other sadistic soul doing his or her bond as an anatomy tutor. We were also extremely hungry and rushed towards Mens Hostel. The sweltering heat and the sun which did not help in elevating our moods. When we reached the mess we would check the pockets of our lab-coats before divesting them. This inspection would invariably reveal whole lot of body parts surreptitiously slipped into our pockets by our ‘so called’ friends. This would normally consist of skin, fat and fascia. The discarded bye products of dissection however once in a while the entire penis sans the scrotum and the testis was also found (these ‘choice cuts’ were normally reserved for the girls however when a ‘friend’ could not find a convenient female pocket he disposed it in the most easily available pocket). Those were simpler times when we never thought twice about the reverence or more specifically lack of it in our pranks. Then you enter the mess and wash your hands in the sink. It’s almost impossible to get rid of smell of the cadavers from your hand especially since you have just disposed of a ‘pickled phallus’. Then we stand in line for a Thambi to dish out a plate of limited vegetables and unlimited serving of rice, rasam, sambar and mor (buttermilk) on your table. After an unsatisfying meal we relax for sometime in our rooms and maybe smoke a cigarette (statutory warning :cigarette smoking is injurious to health. I no longer indulge in this unhealthy activity). The ash of the cigarette is flicked into a cranium turned over to form an ashtray. This had an amazing capacity and could hold more ash than any conventional ash trays (a smaller version consisting only of the frontal bone and the orbits was also available). Then maybe mug up for the physiology practical in the afternoon, to avoid getting ‘Zapped by Zach’ (our Physiology professor) followed by a snooze and then get up cursing and walk along the corridors of Men’s Hostel (to avoid the sweltering sun) towards the Physiology department. Along the way in the Appendix (we had a block in the hostel called that) lies an old discarded shoe box right on your path. By this time frustration has built up. How dare someone discard a shoebox on your path. You bring up all the force you can muster backed by all the pent up frustrations and kick it out of the way with your foot most probably shod with ubequitious ‘MCR Slippers’ or plain old bathroom slippers. The moment your foot makes contact with the shoebox an excruciating pain rushes up your foot from the point of contact and the box hardly moves an inch! You scream in pain and hold your toe and meanwhile the door of the appendix room in front burst open and your seniors having a good laugh at your predicament emerge. You realize that the shoebox was not discarded but deliberately planted and it was not empty but contained two bricks. Just another typical day in the life of a resident of MHU!