The poor chap is neither a cherubic seraph nor a seraphic cherub – only a victim of sinusitis. A slightly peppery young man, we should find it easy to forgive him if only we knew of what an abnormal childhood he's had — he has gone through life with exactly 1/2 of an Enid Blyton book representing his total indulgence in Literature. Since then of course, he's come a long way: he's read Samuelson, Hicks, Lipson, Leonitief and Rostow. The damned thing reflects in his grades: an A in EAP-I, II and III. He plays the guitar, football and on peoples' nerves. Placement for him will be a remote village in Rajasthan.