Space

This morning I saw a message in my mail box from Jyotsna telling me that I am not allowed to be lazy, and that I better get my arse moving on the next post. So that's my motivation to write today. I generally have something in mind when I start out, but today, I don't really have a plan. So I think I'll pick up on something that's been on my mind of late.

One of the major constraints of hostel life is the lack of space. The first year at Univ, I lived in a room that's about the size of the bathroom I use today. And its not like I had the room to myself. I shared it with Deepthi. The room, meant for a single person came with an almariah, a table and a chair. Deepthi, in her effort to play fair, doubled those numbers, so we wouldn't fight over the rather limited logistics. In the bargain, the room looked more cluttered than other rooms in the hostel. It often struck us, on a lighter chord, that if we both chose to sit at each end of the room, we could manage to pass things between each other, without needing to move!A lot of times, our room looked like a second class compartment of an Indian railway train. And am not exaggerating. Clothes, books, shoes, buckets and toiletries- all of them lost the comfortable hierarchy they had back home. They were all just bundled together, the most important stuff being easily accessible.

I was not one to complain. I was just glad I didn't end up with some chick with lice in her hair. That was my only major concern really. My sister tried to get me to focus on other stuff while picking a roomie "ensure she's not a pain" "ensure she has similar sleep timings so you guys dont fight over the lights" "ensure she doesn't steal". But none of that worked. Fortunately, not only did my roomie have a clean head, she also turned out to be a freak like me who'd wake up at 4 in the morning to study. And she wasn't a pain and she didn't steal.I cant help but feel proud about myself today. I know I had it all figured out when I was on the look out for a room mate with no lice in her hair.

Others had it a little harder. Gogs for instance. He had an entire floor to himself at home, the spoilt single kid that he is. His mom was devastated when she saw his room. He had to share it with three others. But as is it turns out, her ladla beta fit in quite well and had a blast at that. In fact so did all of us. Straight out of home, hostel brought with it its share of discomfort. But those seemed to trouble us only till we suddenly woke up to the space we actually had.

The space to mess up and learn to deal with it, to over spend and be broke, to spend late nights out and sleep through a class, the space to eat shit and have an upset tummy. The space to make a decision. I suppose that's what it boils down to. The space to decide what's best for one self, the space to make a bad decision and know that if it went wrong, you'd be the only one to blame. The space to not have to worry about the strings that get in the way of making a decision.

Right now, I am in a dilema which will probably help you see my point. There's a late night party in the office. I want to go for it, but know that my grandparents, who I live with, will have a problem with that. I can't decide what to do. Respect their sentiments, their anxiety and most importantly, their age? Or go ahead for the party and have a blast? Strings that get in the way of making a decision.