In a parallel incident at NALSAR, a student hailing from a ▮▮▮ country was abducted within the campus premises at approximately 5 am near the male hostels. The abduction was carried out by two individuals wearing masks and brandishing a knife. During the incident, the student's personal belongings, including their wallet and watch, were forcibly taken. Despite the challenging situation, the student, who belonged to the brave ▮▮▮ community, displayed courage by resisting the abductors and eventually managed to escape. The student covered a distance of 5 km on foot to return safely to the campus. It's important to note that there have been claims that the university administration has chosen to keep the incident undisclosed and is not actively cooperating with the local Hyderabad Police in their efforts to investigate the matter.
Everything is already robbed there bro. I have heard that the University tried to conduct their University intra-moot rounds and apparently the moot problem was directly plagiarized from some college in Maharashtra. If this is true then that college should actually put this out in social media saying that the Harvard of the East has actually plagiarized their moot problem.
Being robbed at knife-point – or in my rather unique case, screwdriver-point – is an experience few can boast of, and even fewer would want to. On one not-so-magical night, while attempting to return from a day spent jousting in the courts, I vividly recall my encounter with Bombay's infamous 'gardullas' as I made my way back from a tiring session of courtly endeavors to my modest sanctuary in 'Nalla Sopara'. I was nestled in the bosom of my beloved first-class compartment, which on that particular evening, was suspiciously empty. Most days, these coaches are so full they seem on the brink of a dramatic explosion. But that night? It was like attending a funeral for an unpopular relative – eerily quiet and no one you’d recognize.
The hour was encroaching upon the witching time, and the lack of the usual hustle in the coach made my spider-senses twitch. As the train trundled into Mira Road station, I spied a motley crew of gentlemen who looked as if they'd been rehearsing for a heist scene in a B-grade movie. Their poised readiness to board felt like I had an audience awaiting my next move. Trusting my instincts, I sprang to my feet and hastily disembarked, seeking refuge in the adjacent, reasonably populated general compartment.
The universe seemed to smile as I snagged a window seat. Across from me sat three seemingly worn-out souls, whom I mused were just returning from their 9 to 9 grind. Yet, just as I began crafting a heartfelt narrative about these diligent men, Naigaon approached and the plot twisted. One began a loving dance with my wristwatch, another serenaded my phone into his pocket, and the pièce de résistance? The third presented his rusty screwdriver, perhaps thinking I needed a bit of DIY in my life. Their ballet of theft was so swift, it deserved a standing ovation.
As they exited stage left with grace and alacrity, I was left, not with anger, but with an appreciation for their flair. There I was, amidst an audience of weary travelers, pondering the artistry of my own personal pocket-theatre, staged by hardworking men in search of a different kind of payday.
Sigh kids. My thoughts and prayers with you.
Was the student on campus or not?
Moral of the story: No city is safe after 11 pm or so.
The hour was encroaching upon the witching time, and the lack of the usual hustle in the coach made my spider-senses twitch. As the train trundled into Mira Road station, I spied a motley crew of gentlemen who looked as if they'd been rehearsing for a heist scene in a B-grade movie. Their poised readiness to board felt like I had an audience awaiting my next move. Trusting my instincts, I sprang to my feet and hastily disembarked, seeking refuge in the adjacent, reasonably populated general compartment.
The universe seemed to smile as I snagged a window seat. Across from me sat three seemingly worn-out souls, whom I mused were just returning from their 9 to 9 grind. Yet, just as I began crafting a heartfelt narrative about these diligent men, Naigaon approached and the plot twisted. One began a loving dance with my wristwatch, another serenaded my phone into his pocket, and the pièce de résistance? The third presented his rusty screwdriver, perhaps thinking I needed a bit of DIY in my life. Their ballet of theft was so swift, it deserved a standing ovation.
As they exited stage left with grace and alacrity, I was left, not with anger, but with an appreciation for their flair. There I was, amidst an audience of weary travelers, pondering the artistry of my own personal pocket-theatre, staged by hardworking men in search of a different kind of payday.