A Tale of a Modern Knight

I had finished dinner and was taking my evening constitutional under the moonlit (and floodlit), leaf-strewn and yellow-petaled pathway of our hallowed halls of learning when I heard the cry for help, "Vikram (name changed)! Help me!". Again, the plea sounded. In front of the Illuminati Room building, dimly lit by the dull burning streetlamp and the curtain-filtered light from the aforementioned, accursed room, were dark silhouettes of a handful of people. From where I stood, peering at the knot of figures, I could not discern their identities. But anon, the pleading cry sounded. Perplexed as I was, I hitched up my shorts and strode purposefully towards the group, my duty was towards the damsel in distress, of this much, I was sure. As I neared the Physics block, the wind seemed chilly all of a sudden. The distance closed and my eyes adjusted to the gloom of my surroundings. To my utter astonishment it was a fair maiden. Soon, it became evident to me, the reason for her pleading. She was surrounded by those beastly, those absolute nuisances, those depraved, maniacal, perverted gang of youth of our institution of scholars; those poor excuses for young men that claim to be best among their peers by counting the number of "years-back" successfully obtained. There she stood, beautiful as ever in the moonlight, completely surrounded by those witless, spineless specimens of homo erectus. Rather like a woodland nymph of the ancient Greek islands surrounded by marauding minotaurs. Or a wide-eyed wildebeest fawn completely surrounded by madly-laughing hyenas. So, I re-hitched my shorts  up and continued with my ever-purposeful stride. I came up to the gaggle and inquired as to the problem. The fair lady poured her tale of woe to me. She had been working late in the cursed dungeon that some know as the Illuminati Room, and in my opinion, is aptly named ill room, when she had been rudely accosted by the cads. The ungentlemanly bunch proceeded to harass her with lewd jests and even went to the extent of questioning her sanity. She had been at her wits end and had tried every possible method to extricate herself from their disreputable company, when she sighted me in the distance and called out for aid. I took charge of the situation and gently chided the knaves with a terse "Shut up!" and turned to the fair maiden and informed that I would escort her to her steed. Then, I walked her to her faithful steed Activa, a jet black mare, and sent her on her way after brushing away her heartfelt thanks with a "Oh, it was nothing!" She thanked me nevertheless and left me saying she hoped our paths may cross again in the future. The hope, springing, eternal, as many have pointed out before me, warmed me for the remainder of the chilly, black night as I continued with my interrupted walk.