A first time

One might think that being in Chennai for over 7(or is it 8?) years, would, somehow or the other, push me into riding one of those huge, green, PTC buses. But no. My first ride was today - with me over sixteen years old, 7 years of which I have spent looking at these over packed, tilted buses. Simply looking. It doesn't help that I spent a better part of these seven years living in a house over two kilometers away from the nearest bus stop. But there's always a first time, I guess.

My first bus ride... was a total fiasco. A fun fiasco.

It started of with me, Battery and Turquoise trudging along to the bus stop, from Chemistry IIT, wistfully staring at the junk-filled 'dabba kadai', with it's shutters pulled down, sleep still hanging about it.

After crossing the road at random places, with Turquoise barging in front of trucks and Battery desperately looking for faded zebra crossings, we saw the bus stop at a hazy distance. Only to realize that the bus we needed to catch was about to leave. And so we ran. Like there was tomorrow. And made it just in time to hear the engine revving up and the wheels tiresomely moving on.

Of course, we found only one available seat. But we also found out that, brilliantly, bus no.1 does NOT stop at my stop. When I heard this, I burst out into a fit of giggles. I mean, what could possibly be funnier than that? Of course, the whole bus was staring at me like I was the complete brash, reckless teenager I am(yes, there were quite a few old ladies). So I dramatically got down at the next signal, with the entire back few seats of the bus glaring at me, wondering who this madcap of a girl was, who wears huge cargoes and wakes up the whole bus for something as silly. Yes, I happen to be rather good at embarrassing myself in public.

But, at the end of it all, it was worth it. I had fun being thought of as a total madcap. A memorable first experience. With Turquoise and Battery by my side. =)

Hooligans at Zoosville

As if it's not enough to bear with a bunch of hooligans throughout the school day, my IIT class welcomes me with thrice the number. I make it a point to come right on time, if not a few minutes late, to prevent my eyes and ears from being abused to great extents.

However, circumstances fail to ever favour me, and i, for the first time in eternity, turn up a whole 15 minutes early. I curse myself for my bad time sense, and search for an empty seat, trying my best to ignore the lingering smell of sweat, intermingled with that of worn-out school uniforms and mud-stained shoes.

The first hooligan of the day accidentally shifts his foot a nanometer from it's original position, only to leave me stumbling across the room, trying in vain to regain my balance. I avoid eye contact with anyone as I reach my seat. Spare me; I get embarrassed enough at school as it is.

Sadly, my choice of place is far from perfect. Unlike the usual set of brains between whom i can sit and pretend to fit in with, I'm surrounded by a bunch of dirty, sweaty, and, yes, giggly guys, who can't keep their mouths shut for more than two seconds.

The guy next to me stares, as though it's perfectly illegal for a girl to sit next to him. Some hooligans in front of me take out their phones, cunningly hiding them, placing them in the perfect position so as to be able to message each other, yes, EACH OTHER, though out class. Clever, you might think. Not quite. Especially when you're sitting right behind them and hear them bursting into fits of laughter every time they receive an SMS.

The boy on my right is sincerely doing last week's homework. Okay, maybe not a hooligan after all, but who said scribbling away undecipherable math sums is any better than under- bench messaging? The continuous scratching of his pen somehow annoys me more than deep-voiced giggles.

Metres and metres away from my inches-from-hell sitting place, a guy sits on the windowsill, twirling his pen and, yes, talking(?) to a group of girls. He occasionally runs a hand through his hair. I roll my eyes so hard, it hurts. I stuff my hand into my pocket to prevent myself from hurling my 10-inch math book onto him. Yes, the scene looks that unbearable.

Two girls walk in even later than me(and to think i never thought it possible). They make their way towards their seats. They don't topple over any one's feet. They don't find their seats between the craziest attention-seeking prats of all time. The guy next to them smiles and says hello, and is not revolted by the fact that a girl is sitting next to him. As though by a stroke of luck, their eyes miss the guy on the windowsill.

I groan out in frustration, only to be met with another terrified, get-out-don't-sit-next-to-me look from the guy on my left. Well, at least someone finds me intimidating.

Just then, the 'professor' walks in. Silence ensues. The pen stops scratching. The giggling in front is, miraculously, controlled. The boy on the windowsill jumps up as though he's just been struck by lighting(how i wish it were true...).

Peace at last. =)

The many uses of the ribbon

I must confess that i DO study in one of those schools where it's an absolute necessity to wear white ribbons every single day for god-knows what reason. Okay, i do realise that they're desperate to make us hide any sign of large, flashy rubber bands with silver butterflies and bright 'pink' sunflowers, but, hey, why waste such a useful artifact on hair?

Like when it's Monday morning, and you hurriedly grab your freshly washed shoes , and grope around for some lace, and rush onto the school bus. But you lose your lace in the whole chaotic process. Ribbons are a perfect substitute. Much more classy, in any case.

Or when you're doing a must-be-finished-NOW science experiment and there's five minutes for the bell, and your apparatus chooses to get all leaky at that moment. Instead of panicking and clutching your hair wildly, why not use a ribbon to stop the nagging snag?

Oh, oh, and what about when you forget your handkerchief? Or when you desperately need a bookmark because of your ever-failing memory? Or as a blindfold at a birthday party while playing with the pinata?

And they make really funky wristbands!

Ah, the many USEFUL uses of the ribbon...

Life as I know it

On entering my class, I blissfully slink into the last bench, talking chattily with all my other backbencher pals. Sadly, bliss, like everything else, doesn't last for long. In enters my physics teacher, and a nanosecond later, we're all snoozing on our desks, our 10-inch thick physics books making up for the lack of pillows. Time passes like a snail, each second lingering around for longer than it's fair share. Then, like God coming down upon earth, the bell rings, drowning her monotonous voice, and sounding as sweet as a bird during spring.

Just as half the class is getting out for a long stretch and a nice chat with the neighbouring commerce students(who are forever roaming our corridors, by the way), our computer science teacher a.k.a class teacher, barges in and starts 'advising' us about how it's absolutely illegal to stand at the door like guards at the Buckingham Palace(can't she see that our class guys are desperate to guard Queen Whats-her-name the hundredth's castle?), and how it's even more illegal to stand within 7 inches of the opposite sex (ladies and gentlemen, Professor Umbridge for you).

By the third period, all of us are sick and tired of life. A couple of people have even considered jumping off the roof, but before they can make it out of the class, our chemistry teacher comes rushing in, a whole 15 seconds late. As usual, we take advantage of her, with half the students walking in late(crumbs of food still grinding in their mouths), and the other half asking her the most nonsensical doubts conceivable. By the time she gets the whole class under control, her time's up, with many sighs of relief drowning the noise of the bell.

Being in 11th means double-periods galore, and the first few periods just repeat themselves, driving us absolutely crazy by the end of the day, our heads crammed with weird s-like symbols (which comes under calculus- who knew?), and quantum physics(a detailed explanation of which is given in our chemistry textbook) and Oiler's formula (oops, Euler's). Not to mention a repeated, ever- torturing loop of fors and do-whiles. Optimism can't possibly exist for anyone this year. Life, as i've known it, is officially over.

Whew!

Trudging to the school ground with my painfully heavy bag is a sad, sad way to start the day. Late as usual, I painstakingly make my way across the wet sand, after futilely arguing with two extra-dutiful volunteers, trying to make them let me in. I make a mental note to learn the art of flirting from one of my more experienced friends.

I quickly dodge our P.T. sir, who's capable of lifting me off my feet, 50-pound bag et al, and dumping me in the late comers line.

After making it to the huge mass of 11th graders, I quietly slink to the black of my line, hoping to escape the eyes of my ever-leering class teacher, always ready to make clean-cut comments about my lack of ribbons and humanly wearable socks.

Somehow, assembly is the only time when teachers decide to not keep the boys and girls 50 meters apart and draw one of Dumbledore's uncrossable lines to separate us. So, we're always talking, catching up with our guy pals, instead of dutifully reciting prayer after prayer.

Just as all of us are on the verge of getting sun stroke, we're rushed towards the school. But no, we dont get away that quick. We have to pass the 'inspection', which involves walking across the ever-dreaded 'ramp', with our oh-so-nice P.T. teacher checking our imperfections- hair, socks, ties, shoelace, and every other nonsensical thing possible.

The entry into the school building is a miraculous one, with only a few disciplinarians and escapists making it inside. Everyone else is caught up behind, for some reason or the other, possibly being screamed at for being late, or a zillion other illegal things, like blinking too much. I congratulate myself on being a good dodger, and, with a sigh of relief, enter my classroom.

Just four-hundred and fifty more assemblies to go.