# The Tenth Turn Down The Street *The blog you are reading right now is not the blog you were supposed to be reading.* *That blog is missing. Investigations are technically ongoing. Though both lead suspects are currently the ones typing this sentence, which should tell you everything you need to know about the rigour of the investigation.* Somewhere in the gap between the academic year lurching awake and these words finding the page, the Editors' introduction blog quietly vanished. No ransom note. No forwarding address. Not even breadcrumbs. Just gone, like your attendance percentage after the first long weekend, or your conviction that this semester will be different. "Confess'd, the deed is done. 'Twas us, and us alone." Fine. Yes. We took it. In our defence, and we do have one, sort of, we needed more time. Not the kind of time people ask for when they mean procrastination. The other kind. The kind that looks, from the outside, indistinguishable from procrastination, but is in fact something far more deliberate. Here is what actually happened: two new Editors inherited the keys to the TSG Blog, and with them, the responsibility of writing an introduction worthy of the space. The first instinct wasn't to write. It was to think. To sit with the weight of what this platform has meant, what it could still become, and what kind of opening act would actually do justice to the year ahead. Some people call this overthinking. We prefer the word *thorough*. What you're reading now is the product of that process, not a placeholder, not a perfunctory welcome, but something that actually reflects the year we're walking into. We think it was worth the wait. But soft! Before the full confession tumbles forth, a word on who we are - *About us.* At their most basic, the Editors are the bridge between students and the Institute Administration. That sentence would look great on a pamphlet. Here is what it looks like in practice: It means student voices land in rooms where decisions actually get made. Not just acknowledged, but actioned. It means the Gymkhana Constitution is maintained with intention and not just a part of the archives. It means your complaints become survey data, your data becomes discourse, your discourse becomes change. It is surely incremental but it's real. You'll find our work in the pages of Illumination Magazine, in the posts on TSG blog, and in the conversations we help steer between the student body and Institute administration. We sit on the Food and Mess Management Committees too. So yes, we hear you, and yes, we are in the rooms where it counts. The Editorship has been doing this since 2017-18. The mission hasn't shifted: student stories deserve to be told well. A campus worth living in needs more than just academics coursing through its veins. Community matters. Documentation matters. Celebration matters. We are here to make sure this one is heard, recorded, and remembered. And now, the suspects. I'm *Tripti Tamanna*, third-year undergraduate, Department of Chemistry, currently locked in a slow and occasionally personal battle with Inorganic Chemistry and a strenuous lab schedule, I have no one to blame for except the JEE prep version of myself who spent hours binge-watching NileRed and thought, yes, this seems like a reasonable life path. I am someone who free falls into rabbit holes, saying this after a six-episode Rotten Mango marathon that started at midnight. I'll happily take a deep dive into obscure cuisines and dishes I will never eat, because I am, ironically, a very picky eater. I have eaten my way methodically through every food spot on campus, and yes, there is a ranking, organised by cuisine, obviously. People also tell me I talk a lot, which I genuinely don't understand. Isn't it natural for a person to talk? ![](https://cdn.hashnode.com/uploads/covers/65239a6345ba8a0b7471a71f/2cab5be8-5eab-46c5-9f9e-0947edf2a62c.jpg align="center") The past two years have also taken me deep into theatre, competitive debating, writing, and journalism. If you want to spot me in my element: look for the person with trademark bangs frantically shuffling six sets of debate notes approximately thirty seconds before her speech begins, somehow looking both panicked and confident at the same time. I'm *Yajuvendra Singh Chouhan*, though most people mercifully just call me Yaj. I’m a third-year undergrad of the Department of Architecture and Regional Planning, which means I should technically be good at designing things. Unfortunately, that expertise has yet to extend a functional sleep schedule. I move to my own rhythm, quite literally. I love to dance and my playlists are dense with indie music that occasionally prompts people to ask if I was born in the wrong decade. I was not. I simply have taste that predates me. (Yes, I’m talking about the 1970s) I also possess what I've come to accept as a supernatural gift for identifying the single worst possible moment to make a joke and delivering it anyway. Dead silence in the room, stakes are high, everyone is visibly holding their breath? My brain produces a one-liner. It cannot be stopped. *(Editor's note: Three such one-liners were present in the original draft of this post. They have been removed. You're welcome.)* ![](https://cdn.hashnode.com/uploads/covers/65239a6345ba8a0b7471a71f/192e257c-e915-4704-ba2c-52dd2b6e69d1.jpg align="center") I rarely say no to things that seem interesting, even when interesting and advisable are clearly not the same thing. If it adds to the lore, I'm probably already on board. The lore is important. *Case Closed.* So here we are. The blog is found. The suspects are known. The motive was care, and the means was time. *We are the Editors now. We're here to listen, to write, and to push for a campus where your voice finds the rooms it deserves to reach. If you have a story worth telling, a grievance worth raising, or simply something that happened to you on campus that the rest of the student body ought to know about, come find us.* The investigation concludes here. The year is just getting started. Tripti and Yaj The 10th Editorship, Technology Students' Gymkhana