Holla holla! Wow. It's been forever since we talked. FWIW, I'm sorry. I do think there was a direction to my drifting away, from those I met during my internment at that institution -- regardless of how I got along with individuals I happened to meet there. It was unfair, and I apologize.

Regarding the poem, whoa. I don't even know where to start grappling with that sucker. (Though, yes, I immediately did haul out my Monier-Williams -- in PDF format, in consideration to these changed times. And I'm certain there are far better lexicographical resources at the tap of a finger now, but I can only grapple with this stuff through nostalgia now.)

Breaking the parenthetical-narrative barrier here, this really does take me back. Look, I'll be blunt: back when I met you and we were dorm-mates, I hadn't shlanted an eye at a shingle shloka for nearly a decade. Since then, it's been more than a decade more. Sanskrit as an undergraduate degree, I don't regret at all -- a 'Classical Education(tm)' ^ 2 -- but I wandered off, northwise and easterly.

I can spot a few morphological elements. Vaguely recognize meter. The content is lost to me. Look, I didn't learn Sanskrit in a nice classical environment, but in a provincial university where our chief was one whose interest was in epigraphy, paleography, graffiti, inter-dialectal and inter-chronic scrapples, and all the shit that's getting queer to yakk about in your neck of the woods.

So, look, I can't help you out with this thing. To clarify: would, but am unable. Fuck. Yes, I do think I might recognize that bit of schlock on your plate. And how to read an email header.

Srsly, just get out now, you smug prick. I know you had multiple passports. Not only did I never really have that option, but I hammered it all flatter than than hammered shit. Yubb when chosh.

Drown the Founder's Statue in Drunken Piss, for luck,
K.