the Week:Part One(don't count on part two,though)

To think i actually thought i led a fairly indisciplined life in school...
Ah well,i was young and foolish(though people who know me happen to think nothing much has changed,especially in the foolish part..but then,what do they know?).
Well,now that i'm in a hostel,something's happened to my system of having seven days in a week.A week,for me(and i can safely say,for most NITTians)now consists of the following days:weekends,normal days and lab days.
A 'normal' day goes something like this:
The night before i set the alarm for 7 AM,a ritual i religiously follow,hoping that some day it might bear fruit.
My trusty mobile(i've sent too many alarm clocks to their somewhat premature deaths by knocking them off the table when they ring)never fails me, it faithfully rings at 7.Then another ritual,followed equally,if only not more religiously,is set into motion. I grab my mobile,curse whoever had the cheek to actually schedule classes at 8:30(8:30,can u believe it???) switch it off and get back to dreaming about Salma Hayek's...Well, i'll leave that to the reader's imagination.
I wake up with a start at 8:15,my subconscious(just before i wake up,it takes the form of our Machining Tech. professor grinning nastily;his delight evident at having another hapless latecomer to throw out)coming to my rescue.
I curse loudly,grab the soap and my toothbrush and run to the toilet complex(it's actually two toilets,two shower cubicles and two wash basins with mirrors for each wing).Who do I find there but my roommate,attacking his molars with passion,the object of which could only have been the above mentioned professor. I'm relieved to see him;you know what they say:misery loves company.
By 8:20 I've finished washing my face and brushing my teeth(constipation is welcome on such days).I run back to my room,pull on my jeans,find the t-shirt/shirt that smells the least and put it on.I get on my cycle and pedal furiously to the mess.Once there,I grab two slices of buttered(at least i think it's buttered,or maybe its just the sogginess) toast,burn my throat with scalding hot tea and i'm back on my cycle.
It's 8:29.By now i'm praying to all the gods of all the religions i can think of(and i'm an atheist,by the way).I think of Lance armstrong and try to get inspired.By now the campus resembles the venue for the Tour de France.
The cyclists are basically of two kinds:people like me, who are desperately trying to make it on time and guys who know they have a lenient prof.,cruising along laughing at guys like us.

Every dog has its day.

Occasionally,we get distracted we get distracted by a very rare sight on campus:maals(nope,that's not malls spelled wrong,it means sexy women/girls)on their cycles.We slow down and maneuver(yup,that definitely is spelled wrong)behind them,trying to catch a glimpse of their magnificent....well, let's not get into that.I don't want to lose my female readership,which presently numbers at one.
Well,I finally make it to the building when i see the prof. starting out from his office.I break the sound barrier as I zoom into the cycle shed,in the process knocking over around twenty cycles.
I then run and walk closely behind the prof.,follow him into the class and quietly slip into the last bench as he enters the class.

Phew and double phew!

One hell of an anti-climax,wasn't it?

This cycle repeats whenever we have a professor who actually believes that punctuality is a virtue or has forgotten his own student days.
The rest of the day,atleast for the two classes until the break,follows in a daze wherein I catch up on lost sleep or read a novel.
Listening in class is not an option.
I complete my breakfast in the canteen in the break,which,mercifully, is twenty minutes long.After class, in the evening and night i indulge in all sorts of wasteful activities,not the least of which is blogging,but then that's a different story altogether...
I've never been good at concluding something I start writing.
As for lab days and weekends,I repeat,that's a different story altogether...
cheers!!


P.S:As is evident,i've exaggerated a bit. There are no maals on campus.