College started, *whine*. Two days into second year and I'm already complaining. At least I've got this blog to complain in. My brother's been telling me that no one's going to read my blog unless i stick to an actual topic that i'm passionate about, i've been telling him to take a bath and comb his hair. Brothers, adorable little twits. they pull your hair and steal your erasers, but you still love them.
Getting back, college. Slipping your feet from under the warm blanket to the cold morning floor, tragedy, right there. Stumbling to the bath, hardly chewing and swallowing a piece of bread that you are force-fed by your mother. Stepping out, you're ready for the next debacle, availing public transport. Even better if you live in the part of the city where the antique buses with leaky roofs and spit sprayed windows run, at a highly unpredictable frequency, never failing to obey Murphy's Law. Anyway, you finally get into one of those beauties, and you're in for one long fun ride, complete with scores of loud, smelly women who step on your feet with their stilettos, men who leer at you unabashedly, and spitting, endless spitting. I dunno what it is with Indians and spitting in public places, they just have to do it to assert their existence. Anyway, so you reach college, elated that you made it in time. You also fervently hope that you remembered to get your college id card; since you have no strategy for duping the horde of well built security guys strutting around with walkie talkies. Finally you make your way to your classroom, where a handful of people acknowledge your entrance, while the rest are busy(discussing movies and music that you despise with a passion, sleeping, copying homework from the naive sincere student, begging the mean sincere student to let hime copy homework, pretending to be engrossed in trashy music, listening to 'english songs' on the radio, trying to walk like a model). I could go on about classmates, but i'm afraid of sounding snobbish. And classmates are probably a nice bunch of people, even if not you would've liked them to be, but to each his own i guess.
Classes begin at once, you wish that the subjects that have such cool names were nearly as cool as they sounded. Some classes you do have fun, you delight a correct answer that you shouted out, you marvel at something you learnt, you share bits of giggled gossip with your neighbor and grumble here and there about woes of college. Ah, the sweet little joys of life. The clock ticks, and you await lunch, you await time-to-go-home. Teachers give you random stern looks, and everyone sends urgent texts under their benches while the college authorities still pretend that mobile phones in campus are banned. Finally you are ready to go home, you are almost smiling as you board another bus, you chat and whine about your day to your sympathetic boyfriend on the phone, reach home just as the rush hour is setting in. You are ushered home by your frantic mother who sets down a truckload of food for you, while you watch a particularly mindless sitcom. Following this you 'chill out', listen to the Beatles and sing along hoarsely, after which you start feeling guilty and open a book or two. Then you realize you've got a lot of studying to do, as you simultaneously remember that you've got a test series round the corner. Then you absolutely freak out, spend a good twenty minutes worrying, after which your boyfriend calms you down and tells you to take a break. You take his advice too seriously, spend the next hour gossiping with your mother and being lame with your brothers. The guilt strikes you again and you quickly get some record work done to humor yourself. Soon you are drifting off without knowing it( and even if you do realize it you make no effort to stay up). The day is done and now they know how many holes it takes to fill the albert hall.