Thursday, November 5, 2009


You wouldn't believe me I know, dear reader, but I have a pathetic life. A sad sad life, yes. I live in a hostel that is situated in the most isolated corner of the entire campus and has a background akin to farmville pastures (yes, I have had my days of farmville obssession!). We have the authority wallowing out for the 'protection of girl students' on the campus, and such sissy people, them, they have the boys living in a protected campus while girls are left to be superwomen in the international school hostel (which was made for boys, initially) with the guardwale bhaina leaving no opportunity to ogle. Also, a couple seen anywhere near the hostel will be deemed to be married within six months of their passing out of the college.

Dear reader, have you ever considered acrobatics during excretion? Of course, you haven't. But we, in the international school hostel, have. Each one's anatomy is slowly growing accustomed to the practices of the circus owing to the amount of creepy-crawlies in the hostel and the advent of 21st century western toilets (To every hostel authority in India, we are Indians. Most of us don't even know how to use a western toilet and believe me, we love to squat... helps with the pressure, you see!).

Also, an average non-schizoid person without any cause for hallucinations and suchlike has seven days in a week - five days of work, one Saturday night to have fun and a Sunday afternoon to sleep late. We have a day less, it seems. There are no weekends, and the line between Monday and Sunday is nowhere in sight.

My batchmates (all but a handful) do not read, and it is not only difficult but impossible to have a proper intellectual conversation with them. Plenty of them are cramming an H.M. Seervai or a D.D. Basu every single day but no, they aren't in love with the law. Not even remotely. There is no passion for the subject; it is only that their kiss-ass attitude (for the lackof a better phrase) helps with the student publicity. I could say more about my batchmates but I have a private blog, yes! Moral of the story: We are drowning in hypocrisy and priggishness.

Lastly and most importantly, the food! Two words - It sucks! First few weeks in the new hostel we were basking in glory of 'good food' and 'proper chicken', and how our seniors are suffering (our old hostel makes the best trash and passes it off as 'food'). However, the quality of food is dropping here, too. And I am nagging every second of every day that I can't wait to go home to eat normally and excrete like a normal human being, and not like a circus clown on a unicycle.

So, dear reader, my life is hardly enviable. In fact, it is like onda. A rotten egg swimming in the yellowish masala fluid served fresh every Wednesday afternoon in the mess.

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