Getting oriented

Trriing! Thus…the sound of an alarm clock (that’s nearly fallen off the bed into the crevice between the bed and the wall) heralds the arrival of a new, disoriented-to-begin-with-day of orientation. The day then progresses with people peeping out, bleary eyed, dragging their way across corridors in order to get ready on time and make it to the mess in order to be able to “attempt” to wolf down something that could pass off as breakfast albeit, on some hitherto unknown planet. The presence of some astonishingly awake, fully dressed and cheery people who you bump into while sleep-walking the corridors does little to soothe those tense moments when you wonder if you'd ever make it to class before the 9 o'clock gong.

The rest of the day passes off in a blur (Literally! I have actually sat through classes with my eyes open and seen everything in multiples... 2 professors, 2 boards etc.) of classes. A typical day begins with finding the “right” place in class and by “right”; it has to fulfill all the criteria of being at the right distance from the air-conditioning and under the right tube-light (one that’s most likely to be switched off during PowerPoint presentations) and one that’s most likely to be excluded from the facilitator’s field of vision. And then… once the seat’s been conquered, comes the time to conquer other battles in the form of trying really hard to keep one’s eyes open and wondering which of the multiple images in one’s blurred, double vision is the actual image of the facilitator!

And once classes are done, begins the hunt for “novel” ways to beat the heat. This usually involves a round of Dumb Charades or card games or movies being screened (on laptops) on the lawns, while some rather pesky, curious frogs hop around and perform the ballet around the said laptop! These nocturnal rendezvous are usually followed by (post) midnight trips to Chhota or MICAfe(or Tongue Ticklers, as we're wont to calling it) that remind one of those midnight feasts described by Enid Blyton in her “Malory Towers” or “St. Clare’s” series. *reminisces the heavenly spreads described by Ms. Blyton... spreads that should only be read about. Once you actually sample them, the charm is completely lost!*

And then of course, no account of the orientation programme is complete without a mention of the hostel! In this regard, the policy to be followed is- The less said the better. Though, I can’t resist from mentioning how the flaking and falling roof that sends me little parcels every morning to remind me of it’s valuable contribution towards making my stay here ‘comfortable’ reminds me of how Chicken Little must have felt when he said “The sky is falling!” *come on, I'm sure everyone'll remember that*

Ooh and there are those famous French classes. All I have to say about them is that my Dumb C skills have vastly improved post those classes, even if my French hasn't! *impish grin*