The most happening day in college…seriously

Remember how I mentioned a funny incident in that post about my college experience? No? Yeah ok that probably didn’t mean anything to anyone, but I thought I’d go down memory lane and give a detailed account of that day. So here goes:

My day began to an exceptionally groggy start and throughout my journey to college I manicured my nails with my teeth, an act of desperation for I had been unable to prepare for my physics test. I had hoped against hope for a miracle so that the test would be cancelled but I solemnly swear what happened next is not what I had in mind.

At approximately half past eight, when our chemistry teacher was happily filling the board with incomprehensible equations, someone came in and whispered something to her and we were told to pack our bags and head downstairs. Soon enough we were escorted down a narrow alley I had never seen before. Pushing and shoving is a part of our daily routine so asphyxiation did not worry me as much as the idea of being taken to an alien territory in the already secluded area surrounding our college and for reasons unknown.

There a rumour spread that there was a bomb in our college and my first reaction was that of utter disbelief but soon that feeling was overcome by overwhelming joy since this would mean a day off – I believe I was going through a phase called adolescence where I wanted to die or sleep, either of the two. We learned that there had been an anonymous tip-off that our college was under a bomb threat. Usually the word ‘bomb’ instils in one a feeling of fear but two years in a girls’ college had prepared me to expect anything from the fairer sex so I was not surprised to see many of the girls sit down and make themselves comfortable as if they were out on picnic, many were worrying about the shade their complexions would become after staying under the hot summer sun, somehow bombs were the last thing on their minds and so panic was prevented, except that there were numerous complain of dirt in the fingernails…

Someone mentioned a bomb disposal squad and their heroic quest to rid the place from the ticking bomb and became excited when someone said that they had successfully deactivated a bomb on the ground floor. Soon the news spread that another bomb had been deactivated..and then there came a news of another bomb, and another, and another so I stopped believing in the story altogether. I mean even the librarian figured out it was a hoax, and that’s saying a lot because she’s usually a couple of years late on the gossip and then a few more till she puts it together. The funniest bit was about some girl who had leapt off the wall and run off; I mean who says Pakistani females can’t participate in the Olympics?

I had lost count of time when finally we were told to get up and move. Finally a teacher came to tell us to get up but as I was happily heading towards the exit I found myself turned 180 degrees so instead of going towards freedom I found myself being dragged to the class. Fate was cruel because in front of me stood my physics teacher with an evil smile on her face but it was a hopeless test anyway because I thought more about falling bombs than falling photons (I definitely prefer photons to bombs) and then I finally went home.

Trust me it was more happening than it sounds. Back then. It was more exciting back then when…oh gosh I’m lame.

high school = college = not a child anymore

Being a pseudo-geek I fancied physics enough to opt for engineering subjects when I went to college. It actually started on a good note because seeing as to how I got over 80% in school, I apparently automatically cleared the admission criteria. The conversation with the administration was brief:

Me: Hello…I want to-

Officer: Did you score over 80% in school?

Me: Y-yes

Officer: Congratulations, you’re in!

Those two years that I spent in college were brief, quite honestly it was all a blur and I barely remember anything, but it probably changed my life in some way. In the beginning I was afraid of being ragged but nobody ever came to me; I am told that I have a look on my face that either says, ‘put one finger on me and suffer the consequences’, or just as likely ‘I’m hungry and I have no friends’.

Besides the forgettable attempts at talent shows and literary plays, I remember being fascinated by a catfight during the council elections. I had never seen girls fight before and that after seeing the torn clothes, scratches and the hair on the floor yanked out in the girls’ fury, I could imagine why it was called a CATfight. Another memorable incident was when the principal got an anonymous bomb threat and all the students were evacuated to an empty ground behind the college. Owing to a life spent in the happening city of Karachi, we did what we always do on such occasions: We had a picnic.

For me, those two years were when I got to understand what the movie Mean Girls was all about, from cool cliques to nervous nerds to badass bitches (not my words, theirs). I think I made it to that select group of students who never made it to any gang. Perhaps it was better that way, I’d like to think I was the cool one among that lot. Maybe.