Watch Out!
Official News
Body of IITR
About Guide Get Involved

Pheking News

Cogni '31, 2431!'

March 22, 2017
- Suvam Das

Cognizance is indubitably the biggest of IITR’s army of fests. It has been fondly described as the 2nd largest technical festival in Asia. The abovementioned fact may be questioned but the writers of this article choose to believe whatever other facts a random freshman working for Cognizance Sponsorship Team would speak out loud on phone. With its ever widening reach, and the rumored ever increasing fixed deposit, Cogni’s pockets seem to grow deeper with every passing year. We take a leap ahead across time as WONA’s in house time traveler dishes the dirt from 2431.

“This. Is. Not. A. FRAT. HOUSE.” Words I heard last whilst hauled out of the conference room.

Ironically, Cognizance has been a fraternity for centuries comprising of over-ambitious Roorkee engineers hosting Tomorrowland beneath the farce of the annual tech-fest. There’s the age-old iron-clad hierarchy, hazing deadlines and certain rituals you must go through to advance. Today you’re going to learn all about the hierarchy, the workload, the average access range and most importantly, the possible exit opportunities. The Cogni syndicate has traversed a million miles since its inception in 2003. Now in the year 2431, with a consistent state-of-the-art money making machinery established as the Cogni Tower (after the demolition of the unregulated and widely unappreciated ECE Tower), the organization has scaled heights deemed unachievable by any in the subcontinent. The rumoured 30 lakh deposit at the break of the 21st century coupled with the strategies of the miser mindset of generations, responsible for tech-ing it to yet higher degrees of riches, shows no signs of ebbing. The break of spring ’96 (read: 2096) witnessed an exogenous boom in the mildly-incubated domestic trading hub providing the impetus to scale the Cogni Street department up to create ripples in the national economy with every passing edition. Gone are those days when the syndicate just used to gloat as the title sponsor of the poverty-stricken cultural counterpart for the better part of a century.

The core team comprises of members, rolling in on an annual basis from the pool of sophies, juniors & seniors, featuring as the most dedicated players in the organization. This lot is driven to stage the perfect carnival and they make sure the underlings follow the same trend. Not to mention, the drafting of the fresh blood they need to brainwash along the semi-corporate obsequious work culture that dictates the syndicate. People are fenced in, with command and control, to result in a trained herd of sheep. But another option is to understand and to accept that people seek actual purpose, trust and transparency rather than the dosage of control & command – which makes sense and thus, has been immaculately ignored.

The managers and executives stand next in line in terms of authority and not always in terms of workability. There are the ambitious ones, willing sycophants at times, gunning for the top notch in successive academic calendar. A certain group belongs to the category who just wants to be engaged on-campus throughout. Then, the silent spectators who love to sit back & relax after they have ensured their customized IDs, t-shirts, certificate and the fat cheque! (yes, cognizance pays; started somewhere in the mid-2200s ) Anyhow, these people are expected to be grilled & grill regularly– grilled by the seniors, sponsors, professors, clerk, random guy from the administrative block & grill pretty much everyone else left in the universe. The chain of screaming, aggravated by the overwhelming pressure of retaining MoUs & roping in new patrons, brings everyone together in the evening like a regular, (dys)-functional family.

Verdict: It’s not about what you expect or the reality or even the surmounting & overwhelming bank statements, you get programmed into the motto eventually - “There’s no nobility in poverty. I have been a poor fest, I have been a rich fest, and I choose rich every effing time.”