College Diaries

Today a year-old memory resurfaced on my mind like a notification from Google photos. It was so vivid that it led to my lazy self getting out of bed and penning it down.

It was a random weekend afternoon in our hostel with me glued to my mobile, fanatically engaging in my dose of Korean drama, and my roommate doing some stuff. Suddenly she snatched my mobile and gushed about how wonderful the weather has become. And yes, it had become.

A beautiful tinge of pink overshadowed the sky, with a cool breeze blowing away the dirty curtains of our dirty room. I took all this beauty and looked at drama with an overload of suspense which can irritate a person if not kill him. What’s lie in all this? It’s a fake world; I realized with a shock that I had already spent 5 hours glued to it like a zombie.

“Get lost, let me watch this in peace.”, I finally replied to her expectant yet irritated face( i don’t know how but somehow that’s her permanent expression directed at me). I returned to watching my series.

Suddenly with the speed of a female mutant ninja, my mobile was snatched away, and I was madhandled to the door with me thrashing and complaining.

As the first whiff of breeze slapped my face, I got to my senses and looked at the weather around.

“Let’s go to the canteen.”

“Yo,” I replied.

We pressed down the lift button and ran our way downstairs, skipping like monkeys on stairs.

Afterwards, we took a long walk chatting all the way, talking about some nonsense stuff that I don’t recall now, but I do remember our boisterous laughs, which made looks thrown in our way as if we cared.

As we settled on our chairs, we had an apparent 20-minute fight about what to order; taking everything into the holy equation like our meagre budget, our significant hunger, how it was just coinciding to mess timings, my preference, her preference, our history of funding, how she cleaned the room every time and how I had cleaned up room time before that and many other existential questions.

Finally, we ordered a brownie and decided to take a 15 Rs. juice (each) from our much more economical Baba Juice shop. Bill came, which led to her rolling a joint out of it and smoking, with me making a Bear Grylls documentary out of it.

Brownie came, and there was a living ode to the analogy, ‘survival of the fastest.’ Hunger satiated; we sat in silence and watched the pitter-patter of drizzle showering outdoors with wall-length glass doors of Bazinga.

The clock struck 6 as we strutted to mess, pitying whoever we met along the way on missing such gorgeous weather.

Well, long story short, I am glad I went that day.