Shatrunjay Krishna ’96


Mistaking my room as SAM’s office and SAM as one of the usual run-of-the-mill magazines that feature an Agony Aunt columns without failing, some troubled souls wrote their sob-stories and slipped them in my room. With Ed SAMs showing no intentions of starting such a column it occurred to me to get printed the most distressed ones. Interested readers desirous of stepping into a sob-sister’s shoes (or sandals) may jot down their comforting advises and send it to me. I take the responsibility of carrying all communication to the persons needing it. So here we go:-


Dearest Aunt,

 I am working on who-came-first-egg-or-chicken riddle for the last five years. Just when my research was showing some hope of arriving at conclusive proof, troubles began to start. First it was one of the co-researchers, V-2, who fell ill and started murmuring ,” Whose egg is it anyway? Whose egg is it anyway?”. He was the ablest mathematician of our team. Then our another team-mate V-1 fainted while investigating “Yeahk Factor”- an empirically determined constant which is a measure of how many number of hen-pecked husbands enjoyed cock-fighting.


Aunt ji this realisation that some vested interest are driven by a single aspiration of bringing damnation upon the investigation of our association of “no-superstition-go-search-for-reason” has forced me to seek your opinion without any time dilation. Hope you’d advise me how to do complex calculation that will help us in finding the final conclusion of this problem which for so long has eluded a solution to everybody’s satisfaction. Also write to me the recipe of the concoction that makes you so wise. I hope that it will give enough mental energy to crack this conundrum even without my friends who have fallen in the way.

Cheeti Chachi mujhe ashirwad do.

Curiously yours,

Chasmoo Chowgale,



Dearest Chachiji,

I am a short fat boy of twenty eight years of age with a pair of teeth missing in the front row. I am fond of lollipops and want to be like Bankelal when I grow young. I spend all of my pocket money on lollipops and comics of Bankelal. One day while playing with neighbourhood boys I was holding my pants with my left hand (its elastic were a little loose) and a lollipop in my right one. Thus constrained I couldn’t catch the ball that came in my direction. How could I? But the captain of my team didn’t understand. He came and hit me in my face and out came a pair of teeth. Since then lollipops do not taste the same. It’s become difficult to hold them. With those teeth I used to cut them into small bits and then lick. Now I can only lick them.


Chachaji, is there any way I can grow that pair of teeth again? Somebody suggested plastic surgery but I do not like the taste of plastics. Please suggest some yogic asans that will help my mouth savour lollipops the way it used to. Please help me out. You are my akhiri sahara.

Your distressed Bhatija,


  All  of you senti-types  must have got your hearts wrenched to read these tear-soaked letters. A little buddhu myself  I have no pearls of wisdom to dole out to these aching souls. I hope there are many avuncular souls among the readers who might  want these guys out of their soups. So rush in your advises as time, having  no other use, is fast running out.


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