'Joint' Study

In BA, after one of the profs threw an answer paper in the dustbin (one of my classmates had titled Milton's poem as 'Honest Blindness' instead of 'On His Blindness'), we decided it was time to pull up our socks, so we decided to study together on the eve of every exam.
Really really stupid idea.
The plan: Meet up at Aslam's place at 6, study til around midnight, and then get a good amount of sleep so as to be really fresh for the exam.
The execution: Well, that's what this post is all about, so here goes...

Six o clock was headily optimistic. It would be well past dusk by the time the first guy turned up. Usually it would be rudy. Rudy was an interesting guy - he would either turn up in his CBZ, which was the rage at the time, or his TVS Champ. And there was a 50-50 chance which one he would turn up in. And then he would come out with some cliche or the other - he was great at cliches - either 'are you ready to burn the midnight oil?' or 'prepared to work until the wee hours of the morning?' or something of that sort.
Then Mark, or marky, or gunja Mark, which were some of the names we had for the poor guy. Big Ozzhead, used to spout lines like 'smoke weed everyday' or 'money brings bitches, bitches bring lives' accompanied with a uniquely Marky-giggle. And his even more favourite line 'Machan buy me a smoke,' which i heard about 10 times a day at least.
Craig, who added a couple of tattoos to his body every year since I first met him six years ago, as well as an eyebrow piercing, a lip piercing... loved bikes, and had the most extraordinary feel for literature, and poetry in particular. He would one day turn up with his head shaved like a spiderweb, and would wax eloquent about imagery in Eliot's Wasteland the next.
And Andrew, my dearest friend in BA, from Mizoram, fabulous singer, good guitarist, very very carefree and a damn good friend to have.
Aslam - he deserves a post all on his own. Good-looking fun-loving women-adoring guy, who's every movement and word was a source of joy and amusement to me. Got drunk on a regular basis, and when in that state, would either start a fight or get very emotional. Once again, it was an even bet which.
Then the two Tibetan guys - Tenzin Tsepak (which became 2pac, and then later tups) and Tenzin Dhargyae (we called him Thutyal after one professor read his name horribly wrong from the attendance register). Neither of them liked their nicks much, and whenver i called one of them, they would turn and go, "What do you want, Rrrrrrrrramnarayan?'
And sometimes Andrew would bring his roommate Francis, who would bring a fat book - the same Tom Clancy novel over three years - with him, read it for awhile, and then use it as a pillow and go to sleep, wake up, read it for awhile, and use it as a pillow again.
By nine, all of the above would have assembled, and sat in Aslam's room. Then general chitchat, bitching about profs etc would take half hour forty five min... and then the studying would begin. Silence for about 10 minutes, then one person would go 'dude, all the tea shops will close by 10'. So we would all troop out of the house, squabbling about who has money, how many cigarettes we can get for 20 rupees or whatever. usually we would end up buying the cheapest cigarette around so that there would be more. We assemble back around 10.30, 10.45, and then we would get ready to study.
However at this point, Mark would suddenly say 'look what i've got' and he'd pull out a small little transparent plastic packet with some Choolaimedu gunja inside. Followed by inane comments like, "Ah lets smoke up, then our minds will really work well" followed in turn by raucous laughter.
And then the process of rolling would begin. It deserves a post on its own, because rolling is an art.. Aslam and Mark were both very good at it. Usually we didn't have rolling paper, so Mark would take a ball point pen, and gouge out the top layer of tobacco from a cigarette, and then patiently knock out the rest - depending on the mood, leave a bit of tobacco at the bottom as a sort of filter, or take it all out. In the meantime, one of the others would be crushing the leaf, taking out the seeds - which was rumoured to make you impotent - and what was probably the sediments of dried cow dung. Thats right, the gunja industry is a dirty one. And then, having mixed it with a reasonable amount of tobacco, and after Mark had exclaimed in glee "Is this a tight joint or what?", Aslam would run it against his tongue, to make it last longer. The smoking would begin.
When you're sharing a joint, the rules that apply are directly oppositte to when you're sharing a cigarette. With cigs, by the time you've taken your second drag, the next in line would grab it from you, accompanied by suitable abuse, but when you're smoking a joint, everyone will encourage you to take more and more. Half the pleasure in smoking up together is the perverse pleasure of seeing your friend babble away in that stoned state.
By midnight we'd be ready to start studying, with a few minor interruptions in the middle. On one occasion, there was a knock on the door. I opened it, and there was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, clad in a flowing nightie. Aslam's sister. I gaped for about five minutes, at which point she wordlessly handed me a Good Knight mosquito repellent tablet and went away. I never saw her again after that.
Anyways, back to studying. Ten minutes of silence as everyone frowned into their tattered or xeroxed copies of Anthony and Cleopatra. And then someone would look up and say "Who the hell is this Anthony fellow?"
And when studying for our allied paper in history, I (as the designated teacher) would explain that WWI began with the assassination of Francis Ferdinand. Everyone -slightly stoned - would turn around to Francis and say 'Frrancis' 'Oy Francis' 'Come on Francis' etc.
Then history of english literature. Which age did R L Stevenson belong to?
"Didn't he invent the steam engine or some shit?"
Eventually having stumbled through all the texts, we would go to sleep, and then turn up for the exam the next day bleary eyed, carefree in some cases, panicked in other, but mostly a sense of resignation pervading the atmosphere as we plodded our ways to the exam hall (usually late).
On one occasion, Francis gave up all together, and Tom Clancy in hand, headed straight for the hostel room. On another occasion, Aslam went to the exam hall, put his head down, and slept.
The rest of us would say, "That's the last time we do this joint study shit..." And curse our way through the paper.
The results were invariably terrible, but the one I cherish the most is Aslam's answer to a question on the novel Huckleberry Finn, which began as follows:
"Huckleberry Finn reminds me of Robinson Crusoe, and also Tintin the detective, with a dog..."
I really wish I had kept that answer paper for posterity.