The names, dates and references used in this article are for creative purposes only. This article does not intend to demean or harm anyone’s/anything’s reputation.

Heya Folks!

I’m SAC. Ayee, no, not the Student Affairs Council. I’m the Student Activity Centre—very different. I turned four yesterday (*pops champagne*) It was my birthday, so I wanted more attention than Kasturba, at least for a day. Alas!

I didn’t ask for these signboards as an early birthday gift, but I’ll take what I get. But, I doubt they serve a purpose; who doesn’t know where I am? These four years have been full of surprises, secrets, and student activity—that is what I’m named after, remember? Even though the activities occurring within my walls were sometimes questionable, to say the least, I tend to remember only the memories, not the visuals. Housing 20+ groups and with 200+ students crossing the gates daily, there are hundreds of stories to tell. Guess who’s got more masala than RKB’s masala patties? (WONA: Sorry mate, nothing beats the patties).

Stories about students questioning the decision to join a campus group because of the labour they were forced to do. Stories of love and war when it was time to elect secretaries. Stories of hormonal pleasures hiding in my dark, shady corners. Want to see the secrets that I hold? Go up one of my many staircases, and I bet you will end up in a new, unexplored spot of the building every time. On most occasions, you won’t even be sure where you are headed; that is an apt analogy for your life here at IIT Roorkee, right? I am arguably the fanciest building on campus, my sloping roof is picturesque and a sight to behold. When you come closer to me, you start to see the tiny imperfections; they become more glaring the more you explore me. Well, this doesn’t stop me from being the centre of attention of the student populace. I longed for the students during the pandemic when nobody was here. People accuse me of being dramatic because my fire alarms go off every two weeks, but do you blame me? It is after so long that people are giving me the attention I deserve. My supervisor hates me because I’m so high maintenance. Nevertheless, I am at the pinnacle of my youth; if I don’t have fun now, what will I cherish upon when I become old and grumpy like Thomason Grandpa.

I don’t understand why many of you call the first floor the “Open Air Theatre”. I mean, it isn’t open air, and it is barely a theatre. I love witnessing the extensive practices that happen there, the loud and often ear-splitting auditions of the dramatics club, and the foot-stomping of choreo every few months, which I’m sure can be heard even from Jawahar if you listen closely. Also, do the helicopter rotors we stole from Boeing AH-64 Apache really cool the area?

I’m not sure if my parents planned my inherent weirdness or if it is something I have developed over time. I remember when the doctor cut that red umbilical cord and brought me into this world. My parents (you might know them as architects) were absolute geniuses if I do say so myself. It is so fun to see rain falling like a waterfall across my roof in sheets making half of the encompassing area inaccessible to most. You will find doors that lead to small rooms with no floors—perfect if you want to end it all, a roof that you might just die trying to get to. I’m the Takeshi’s Castle you all wanted to see.

Umm… I don’t think you guys are as interested in my stories as in my roof. I swear I’ve had at least a dozen people climb up my roof in the most ethical and law-abiding manner… well, let’s not talk about that.

Oh! Here’s a funny thing. Folks from Jawahar used to walk down here to use the washrooms. I always fancied Jawahar Uncle; he’s so cool. I don’t know why he starts speaking gibberish at night and those colourful lights he sports, but it was so fun to see that he didn’t have good western toilets. I mean, even Govind uncle has them, though scarce and hidden. The fact that he’s so old. Come on; he’s been there since Thomason Grandpa, I think. He stands in all his glory amidst the academia, away from everybody else.

Also, Thomason Grandpa… Aaah, I don’t like him. He’s so arrogant, and he has this peculiar old British accent. Last time he told me, “SAC, my child, I would like to express my commiseration for your monsoon tribulations.” I was perplexed at the use of such heavy vocabulary and said in return, “Thank you, I hope they continue the way they are.” He laughed me off as a “nitwit”, huh. This guy has 20 people tending to his needs every day; all he has to do is sit back and pose for pictures. I know he’s turning 175 this year and getting all the attention. But hey, I would also love a little recognition on my birthday. *sniffs*

I have been through it all with you; I have seen thriving romances and dismal heartbreaks on the benches in front of where I stand. I have tried my best to get you guys through everything. Be it the sleepless nights before competitions, the frustrating brainstorming sessions, or the sad breakdowns while sitting alone on my steps. I have been through them with you all. Your sorrows were my sorrows; your happiness was my happiness. It’s incredible having such lovely kids come up with such excellent stuff. I love it so much.

Okay, I will go now… These SDS people are up to some menace again. Bye! *hugs*