When I reached, I could hear faint music playing inside. I knocked on the door and another senior let me in. There was already a first-year there, naked except for his underwear, and he was simulating masturbation. A bevy of seniors sat on the bed opposite him, howling with laughter. The apartment was strewn with underwear and male vests and a ripe smell emanated from another room. On seeing me, the seniors bade me come closer and asked me, in what must be the most inappropriate non-sequitur ever, how often I masturbated and whether I knew the Hindi term for it. I did, but I was too embarrassed to say it. A senior stood up and slapped me so hard that my specs fell to the other end of the room. On the verge of tears, I said: “mutt marna.”