A friend once told me (well, I just want to sound dramatic; this happened about four days back) “Let the freaking coffee burn your tongue. Only then can you enjoy it properly.”
Now I honestly don’t have any idea as to why I stated that. Probably because of the fact that I wanted to seem all professional, and begin with some deep quote about life. Never mind. So basically, this little piece of advice was thrown at me when we bought ourselves some coffee (and no, I did not act chivalrous and did not buy her coffee (not that I didn’t try, but still)).
Anyways, I apologise for the huge hiatus that I took from writing on my blog. Things have been… hectic. Gosh, it seems like an eternity has passed without me venting. Moving into a hostel with no WiFi comes with its own set of issues. Also, my college believes in a simple principle of basically making us work till we have the ‘I’m-so-done-with-life-expression’, which is basically my face everyday in the morning (even then, I look amazing. Not). They basically throw assignments on us like tomatoes during the La Tomatina festival, except that these freaking tomatoes irritate the hell out of you. But yeah, it’s fun working on almost all the assignments, and the real struggle is to make myself sit and start working on those assignments (in short, I’m lazy. Not that you guys didn’t know that)
All this time, I’ve wanted to write something, but I’ve failed miserably, and repeatedly. Mostly because I didn’t know what to write about. And the fact that I couldn’t find time (read as: doing other character building (lol) stuff, such as washing clothes and polishing my shoes and washing my lunch box).
Oh and also, the biggest factor; the fact that I don’t have any internet facilities in my hostel basically means that I need to walk up till the cyber cafe’, which is like a 10 minute walk from my room (so exhausting; I’d rather sing soprano), and I basically need to type in my entire post out in a cubicle while being supervised by the creepy cafe guy (who, by the way, is staring right now). It feels like some sort of high tech loo which allows me to excrete my emotions and then flush them out using the internet ( I could go to the extent of saying that I use the website as toilet paper, but let’s not get too graphic here). I think I should rename my blog as ‘Inside The Cosy, Creepy Cubicle’, to be honest. Anyways. (My coffee friend says that the way I just described my er, excretion of emotions is called ‘Katharsis‘. Not that I care. But still. Thanks.)
Moving to a hostel has made me realise many things. Once of those things: yelling at a washing machine to spin does not work (No, I did not think that my washing machine is voice activated, if that’s what y’all are thinking). And yeah, its happened many times that someone has woken up to see me scolding the machine (hey, I need to vent sometimes). Basically, my hostel has a rheumatic washing machine which throws tantrums like a 10 year old kid. Heck, 10 year olds behave better. I mean, seriously, all you need to do is add three pieces of cloth to it, and it starts groaning as if Frankenstein’s monster came to possess it. Gods, I feel like throwing it off a cliff.
Another thing that annoys the crap outta me is the fact that my room has automatic jamming system. Enter the room, and boom, no signal. Even my mobile SIM, which prides itself when it comes to connectivity, fails to connect. I was thinking of putting up a sign outside my hostel gate saying ‘You are now entering a signal free zone. Welcome to the stone age’. There are, of course, certain zones, or areas where you get signal. Even in my room, if you sit/lie down in a certain pose, you’ll catch signal, and even that would throw tantrums like a baby. So if you ever come to my room and find me lying in some yoga position, try not to hit me or disturb my position. The worst times are when I need to submit my assignments online. I need to walk outside my hostel, and I need to stand there like an awkward statue of liberty inn shorts holding up the phone like a beacon of internet instead of hope. I’d hate to imagine what the people driving by would be thinking. Its so awkward, it isn’t even funny. Never mind.
Surprisingly (yes, even I’m surprised; genuinely), I’ve found myself going to the temple more often after moving into the hostel. Oh, and those who don’t know me, or rather, are new in my life, you guys should know that at one point of time, I was an atheist. Yes, a child of brahmin descent turned into an atheist, ate non vegetarian (not that I’ve stopped eating non-veg), and frankly did not give a damn about any rituals. I lost faith, you see, and as to how I lost my faith… well, that’s a tale for another day. All that I can say is that my faith was rekindled by the end of 12th grade. Basically, I sucked at studies (as you guys might’ve figured out by now), and was practically failing all my subjects (except English; go figure). At some point, I just felt the need to…give up. To just let it all go. I was overcome with grief, and I figured that irrespective of what I do, I was going to fail. At that point of time, I don’t know how, or why, but I began praying.
Yeah so now I’m in college, I guess you know what happened, Not only did I pass, I also got into a brilliant college (or so I thought; so naive), and also got into a college of my choice. I clearly remember the night when I had received the news; that I had gotten into the college of my choice, and that was the day my faith was re-kindled. That night it rained, and I’m not sure where the rain started first: did the clouds shed tears before I did, or was I the one who began the downpour in my room? Before I knew it, I was outside, and believe me, I felt no shame when I cried in the rain, because at that moment, with hot tears mixing with the cool rain drops, I felt that yes, there exists some force beyond my understanding out there. Even now, if I feel melancholy, or angry, I just go and get wet in the rain. It doesn’t make the feeling any lesser, but I guess its makes it easier for me to bear the burden, and control myself a little better. It gives me… hope.
Now, amidst all this seriousness lies my brilliant hostel with its stupid inhabitants (literally, they are all animals). In the beginning, I cursed myself, my parents, and basically anyone and everyone I looked at, having my ‘oh-god-why’ expression all the time. The room adjacent to mine was the audio centre of the hostel. The guy has amazing speakers, and used to play loud music. Not that I minded, but then, when you need some peace, and then suddenly ‘Munni Badnaam’ starts to play, you tend to lose your shit. My fist day in hostel was commemorated with five people being kicked out thanks to the fact that they behaved like animals after getting drunk (not that they behave any differently when they’re sober; trust me, I know)
There’s one room, which, I shit you not, is one of the dirtiest rooms ever. I swear to god, if you ever enter the room, you legit need to wade through the clothes lying on the floor. And on the bed. And table. And the cupboard. Basically everywhere. My hostel mates named it ‘Chandni Bar‘ (I still have no idea why), and if you’re hungry at night, or want to watch a movie and basically chill after midnight, you need to go meet these guys. Oh and the best part is that one of the guys bought a laser light system, so the room is rreeeaaallllyy trippy. Saturday nights are the best. I mean, right from midnight, we either run off to play badminton (there’s an indoor court), or basketball, or decide to just play uno (hey, its fun ok. I don’t know or enjoy poker), or maybe watch a horror movie (which eventually turns into a comedy while watching in a group. It is fun to scream your head off anyway)
It’s amazing to live there, except for this one time where someone (my dear room mate, ladies and gentlemen) broke into my room and stole a jar of nutella. They did return it to me. But it was almost empty. Go figure. It was a prank, and I understood that. But no one messes with my nutella. NO ONE.
My room mate is the the most extreme person I’ve ever known. He either doesn’t go to college, or, if he goes, then he doesn’t return till 10:30 at night. It’s brilliant. The best part is that he doesn’t smoke or drink. Or do anything, realy. Except watch movies and sitcoms. ALL. NIGHT. LONG. There was this one time when I needed to wake up at 4:3) on a sunday (I go for treks, so yes, I need to wake up that early), and I slept at around 10:00 the previous night. My room mate began watching some episodes (sherlock, I think) at the same time. Next thing I know, he’s shaking me awake at 4:45, telling me that I overslept and that the alarm was done ringing and was exasperated (yeah, I pretty much sleep like a Medusa victim), and he goes back to watching his episodes. It is astounding, the way he sleeps during the day, and is awake all night like some nocturnal beast.
So anyways, that’s that. I’ve changed a lot after I’ve moved to the hostel, and I’ve metamorphosed, or in simpler words, changed for the better. Or maybe I’m discovering myself fully, the entire badass person that I am. I don’t know. Anyhow, I’m sorry again for the long absence, and I shall do my best to post more often. Till next time, guys.