At three fifteen the large glass doors of my department are closed.Two short emaciated guards stand in front of it, both of them well into their autumn years.A few people walk upto them and ask to be let out."Four o clock." they say pointing to their watches.A group of wise guys walk up after tuning their watches to four and ask to be let out."Four o clock on OUR watch." they say pointing to their bony wrists.By three fifty, an entire department of around seven hundred students stand before them.Girls and guys in little huddles.Some frown staring at the canteen."So near yet, so far." they think.Some are angry and rave and rant about the present predicament and end up debating upon Ganguly's entry and exit into the team that changed by the week."This looks like a zoo.Atleast it sounds like one"I muse, as the low murmers escalate into pure cacophony within minutes.Some stand oblivious to the noise and theatrics that surround them,their fingers working furiously on their cellphones.Others retire to a corner, defeated and tired.Nothing..and no one can get past the two sentries.They speak very little.Its either "Four o clock." or "Don't ask us, ask your HOD." At four,a stampede occurs, reminiscent of the ones in our state.No one has been hurt yet.With pressures boiling and anger unabated, someone's going to get hurt soon. And it sure isn't one of the students..