If anyone tells you that doing the Naagin dance in language class is a good idea, then don't believe them. Its a lie concocted to get you into trouble. I'm telling you, nuns - not "people". Highly temperamental women cramped up in a tiny campus can have disastrous effects. Language class is where it all happens. I've been in college two years and my Sanskrit teacher never addresses me by my name. Even if I make any noise, its the person sitting next to me who gets yelled at (smirks). It was one of those days, when the sun is hotter, the nuns crazier and watchmen shrewder. I'm sitting in class waiting for the teacher to come, in walks KJ ( my mentally unstable friend) going "oooo wooow oo". Statutory warning: Too much of KJ is highly injurious to mental health. Enter the "warrior". We settle down in the back row. Class begins, as usual- dull, drab and deathly. KJ leans towards me "Lets do the Naagin dance, Nins." I was never much of a dancer. Apparently according to a faithful birdie -carefully re-phrasing- "You dance like a monkey with emotional problems" (you here refers to yours truly). Nonetheless, never the person to lose heart, I join in. "Go cheetah have a banana, hey monkey, get funky"! I totally nailed it. We could soon hear (as did people within 10mile radius) the "warrior" screech "What on earth is going on in the back row?". Thats enough to set her off with her mind numbingly boring rants on girls behaving like guys, lack of discipline among the youth, her going to America to do her Ph.D (I don't know how thats relevant, the show off) and the effect of "too much" freedom on girls. Sigh. The old bat never stops. I stare at her as if in a drunken stupor. The ever optimistic KJ reverts back to her nutty self. She crouches low and continues with her dance and we happily take videos of her without her knowledge. It was all over facebook by night.
I finally read the Hobbit. Its a wonderful book, but not in the same league as Lord of the Rings (the daddy of all fantasy novels). It amazes me, the amount of trash people read. The craze for the Twilight series is simply beyond my comprehension. But I refuse to over analyse the already cliched topic.
Cul-Ah came (theme being Jungle Fever), fun and fun is all I can say. The fashion show left me feeling like an overweight and hideously sun burnt heifer. Who cares about internals? No one. So lets not talk about it. Plod on further my brave friends. I may write something interesting yet.
The days went by in a blaze with me alternating between great excitement and confusion (psychology students, does it ring a bell?). I realise to my utter dismay that I've lost my phone. My mum shrieks something about terrorists, stalker, identity thefts, and you know something is really going wrong when your mum starts making sense. I ran helter-skelter, called a million people and is currently headed off to the Police station to file an FIR. For all I know sometime in the near future, the authorities might issue an arrest warrant to dock me in for kidnapping three fat Palestinian men in Gaza. Pray for me people. Jihadists and non- jihadists alike.
