Everybody has a 'group' in college who they generally hang out with. And if you happen to be very very social like me, you had several 'groups', but you'll always have that one group of guys you'll always end up going to the bar with. In my case, this 'group' was made of Rugved 'Daru' Khante, Amar 'Hummer Paaji' Varma, Adi 'Sindhi Aadmi' Bhatia, Deva a.k.a Pappi, Chirag 'ChEEraaagh' Patel and me - Tanmay 'Wilkins Mota' Bhat.

Now, you might be thinking - 'Oh funny nicknames! But I bet they don't call each other by that.'

Well, you couldn't be more wrong. You could try, but you would fail miserably.

We had spent way too many drunken nights together for us to call each other by names that our parents gave us. We'd rather refer to you as the sodomized, raped and gang banged version of your name.

Anyway, the story I'm about to tell you traces it's roots to one of those drunken nights. That's right, it's one of THOSE stories.

It was the summer of 2006. Rugved had just moved into an apartment nearby. We were celebrating his exile from his previous apartment by drinking voluminous amounts of golden coloured brewery extract, more commonly known as beer. Or in Rugved's exact words "DARUUUUUUUUUUUUUU... YEAAARRRGHHHGHGHGH".

We started drinking at about 11 pm, and by 12:30 pm we all were smashed. I was so happy high that I swear on my Simpson Boxers, the thought of having to pee and let out all the beer would have made me cry.

Soon, as our conversations started to deviate from women, food and Sandra Bullock, I started losing interest. And I did what I had to do. I played some music.

Now, I'm the kind of person who likes to play songs that are either audience participative or downright ridiculous. On this day, I decided to play Who Let The Dogs Out.

The first time I heard that song, I thought it was SO ridiculous that it got me excited to the point that I banged my head on the wall just to calm me down. So now, when I was drunk, I was just as excited... multiplied by a few million.

Here's a trick that you should do when you're drunk with your friends.

1. Gather all your friends in one room.
2. Ask them to shut the fuck up.
3. Open all windows, doors, cupboards, dustbins and drawers.
4. Turn the volume up on your speakers.
5. Play 'Who Let The Dogs Out'.
6. Change pants which are magnificently wet due to step no. 4 and 5.
7. Close cupboards, dustbins, drawers and more importantly your doors and windows.
8. Point no.7 is to avoid pointy objects being thrown at you by other members of the building.

You might be wondering why I am asking you to do this. It is only because it's the best feeling in the world.

Never have I wanted to yell out 'WHO LET THE FUCKEN DOGS OUT' in my entire life. But that night, in that situation, I wanted to yell out those words more than I wanted to be alive.

And so, I yelled out those words as loud as I could. Several parts of my lungs got angry and as a sign of protest they made me cough.

You have to admit, the first few times one of the Baha Men yells out 'Who Let The Dogs Out', you cannot help but yell it out too. And so I did. Several hundred million times.

I grabbed Hummer Paaji and we planted our arse on the window, still yelling (and laughing, yes).

The next few moments are an actual blur, to be honest. But I do remember watching several extremely scared dogs in the vicinity, who had officially been scarred for the rest of their genital-licking lives, going berserk.

And just like that, we all were in our happy zone. Careless and utterly oblivious to our entire neighborhood's necessity for peaceful sleep. However, the local patrolling police van didn't really care about our happy zone.

The police car came out of nowhere, and like most people within a radius of five thousand kilometres, they too heard a bunch of boys yelling out 'A DOGGY IS NOTHING IF HE DON'T HAVE AAAA BOOOONEEEE'.

They moment the spotted us, they yelled out 'AYE! KYA CHALU HAI UDHAR?!'

Drunk as we were, we didn't know if that was a rhetoric question or a genuine enquiry.

In what seemed not more than one twenty seventh of a second, they were upstairs, banging on our doors. Meanwhile, I thought it would be a swell idea for me to snuck under the bedsheets and pretend like I'm sleeping. Maybe it was the alchohol, but I seriously thought that the chances of them seeing a 6 feet tall and 4 feet wide person singing a verse of a popular english track, was bare minimal.

I was obviously mistaken.

They entered the house and started yelling even more loudly than us. Kinda ironic I thought.

While I was practically fornicating with that ironic thought in my head, they entered the bedroom and saw me trying to pull a fast one on them by pretending to sleep. I was even snoring. Very very loudly.

The moment they saw me they said 'YEH MOTA ABHI SOYA HAI! AYE, CHAL AYE NATAK KARNA BAND KAR!'

They threatened to take away the computer. It was at this moment that I wished I could pull of a deus ex machina and save the day. Unfortunately the words 'C'MON DOGGGY HOLD YOUR BONE! C'MON DOGGY HOLD IT!' had hijacked my mind.

Somehow, SOMEHOW.... Rugved remembered that he still had his press card from the time he'd worked for the crime beat at Mumbai Mirror. He showed them the card and they left. Not without taking away some of our alchohol.

And that my friends is just one of the ten random memories I'm going to share with you about my last 3 years at BMM.