Edition 50

Why the World is Not Ready to End Yet
The world escaped from the brink of a World War, only to be
disturbed by riots and protests shortly after. The cherry on top?
COVID-19. One could conclude that the apocalypse predicted for
2012 is materialising in 2020, but who knows what the rest of the
year has in store for us. But is this the only takeaway from the
pandemic - that our world is about to end and we’re facilitating
this?
The problem is this: we’re led to believe only what we want to, aka
the Cocktail Party Effect. It’s the brain’s ability to ‘tune into’ the
singular voice of rumours and hearsay, and ‘tune out’ the voice
of reason and rationality, similar to how a partygoer can focus
on a single conversation in a noisy room. This is why bad news
draws more attention than good. However, the choice is up to the
partygoer - would they rather give into such pessimistic claims,
or believe that they’re going to come out of this more aware and
tolerant?
Because the world didn’t end in 2012, it witnessed Leonardo
DiCaprio win an Oscar as well as the underwhelming ending of
Game of Thrones. So, no, the world isn’t ready to end. Yet. We
are yet to see how Taarak Mehta ka Ulta Chashma concludes; we
are yet to witness Apple release an iPhone that holds its charge.
Most importantly, we are yet to beat this pandemic and finally
see a smile on the faces of the frontline workers who’ve been at
it 24x7. And of course, we are yet to tell our kids and grandkids
the stories of how we saved the world by sitting at home doing
nothing. Don’t lose hope in the world just yet.
-Pratiksha Pradhan, 3 rd Year, ECE
The Rhythmic Rigour
A big yellow bus balloons the chaos from throngs of vehicles
at the crossroad. There is a scrawny teenage boy, polishing the
shoes of a man with a gleaming belt buckle. There is a food stall,
a fountain, some hoardings, and a girl rushing by with a maroon
backpack. Across the road are two kids, donning navy-blue
uniforms, chasing the yellow bu-
BUZZ...The phone’s screen shows an unknown number. Its
vibration pinches Aaron away from his painting. Seconds after
picking up, he realizes it is another of those art-school promotion
calls. Exasperated, he throws his phone on the table and turns
around. He can hear someone chopping vegetables, his creaking
fan, a trite voice reading the 5 PM bulletin, and the incessant
beeps from his discharged watch.
Aaron shuts his eyes, his mind drifting back towards the hustling
street. He thinks about the shoeshiner. How much will that man
pay him? Is he saving money to start his own shop? Is that girl
with the maroon backpack going to some important meeting?
What are those two children going to do with their lives?
He turns back towards the desk. A heavy sigh follows, and it all
blurs. With wet cheeks, he looks at his painting as a thick layer of
water engulfs the entire sheet. On top of it is the capsized waterbowl
and his phone, the culprit. Under the water-film, everything
seems to be moving. The cacophony of honks, the shoe brush
rubbing leather, children’s shoes clopping on the footpath, all add
on to the existing sounds. He puts the bleeding sheet aside.
Minutes back, Aaron was dwelling on the future of people who
are now a vague amalgam of colours. He picks up a new, blank
sheet and starts scribbling while Katy Perry sings ‘Chained to the
Rhythm’ on the radio.
-Prakhar Chaudhary, 3 rd Year, BAE