The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Ashoka chapter.

Edited by: Shloka Sankar

Ingredients:

1 packet of Maggi instant noodles
2 cups of water
A pinch of the following ingredients will make the noodles tastier:
– Self-awareness
– Humor
– Procrastination (can I submit this article on Sunday instead?)
– Memories
– Chaos
– Drama

Estimated Preparation Time:

0- 2 minutes, exclusive of the time taken to make this decision

Cooking Time:

2 minutes (or so we assume)

Total time:

3 years

Serving size:

One person, their friend group, a few professors, and hopefully parents. Definitely enough for a bittersweet yet heartwarming experience.

Method:

Gather your ingredients:

Gathering ingredients can be a funny task, and is usually done while I’m sitting on my bed trying to navigate through the drawers under your bed. The first grab is probably the paper plates I’ve saved from a food joint, following is perhaps a jar of aam ka aachar (mango pickle) I got from home, a container filled with makhane (foxnuts) , and a tray filled with oregano, chili flakes, and garlic powder. Stuck behind is the mega pack of multiple Maggi packets, a pan that is still damp from the last time I washed it, and metal chopsticks that will definitely scrape the Teflon off the non-stick pan.

As a third-year student, I’ve started to increase the list of things I want to add to my noodles, but at the same time think of the futility that follows. The masala packet that comes with the Maggi noodles will dominate any other flavors so well that everything else tastes like nothing. Our college life, just like these noodles; is a face to a palette of flavors and experiences that seem too overwhelming to even list. Think of everything you have come across so far. Are you thinking about academics? Or clubs, and societies? Or Thursday nights? Or probably if you’ll order the chicken sandwich today or a cheese croissant maybe? Or if you’re ordering the mini thali number 1, or the thali number 4?

Boil water:

Feel free to be confused if you’re brave enough to use the induction in the pantry either on the ‘boil’ setting, or the manual one. The reality is while there are people, acquaintances, teaching fellows, friends, and even strangers who would want to help you, and automatically churn your butter, it’s usually the mechanics of your own psyche that fit your needs like a glove. It’s not just the induction setting that works best at your discretion, it’s also how you balance the pan, the bowl, and your extra thingamajigs on your way to the pantry. This balance of what’s necessary, and what you feel is necessary to making the perfect bowl of Maggi is quite literally and metaphorically in your hands.

Honestly, who likes to wait? It’s always the first minute or two that feels too long to be patiently waiting for. I wait for the conventional heating to take shape, and form tiny bubbles on the bottom of the pan, and slowly rise up to the surface of the water. It’s the first month that moves so slowly that it will test your patience, setting a precedent that three years will feel like three years, and when those three years start to close their ranks, you will have changed, and so will the things around you.

Add the noodles and stir:

As I drop the noodles in the boiling water, I slowly observe them separate from one another, while still being so close. It’s like being in the first two semesters of college, and you and your friends have the same foundational courses, the same professors, and the urge to meet every day. Now you move on to your separate electives when time barely clashes but passes too soon. You’re sitting at two different tables in the mess talking to different people, you’re afar yet connected. There are links, let’s call them ‘memories’ and ‘good times’ that are too beautiful to forget, but too sad to be nostalgic about. My reminiscence of what once was will likely push me back while I sit and realize that different is as beautiful as it is necessary. While you sit at two tables far apart, you run into each other at the bussing station, knowing that a message will ping you at 2 AM saying “Come down, let’s go for a walk”.

That distance still exists, but for the moment it’s vanished into a cold breeze in contrast to the warmth that the distance doesn’t penetrate.

Add a false sense of time

Honestly, who has really made Maggi in 2 minutes? Unless it was on the top of a volcano (if you manage to keep the pan intact and water in a liquid state). I always ended up thinking that I have time, we have time. But really? Do we? I’ve managed to like this person for more than two years now, but the time I thought I had saved has passed by faster than I could’ve anticipated. Those two years, which felt like two months have again passed by so quickly that I couldn’t even manage to keep tabs on how my feelings have profoundly changed, or have they?

The art of multitasking

I don’t remember the last time I managed to restrain myself from adding extra ingredients to my Maggi. It’s always chili flakes, and maybe some oregano. I also love to add a cheese slice if it has managed to survive the theft. I know very well, that the Maggi masala goes well with what I have, extra ingredients will always be tertiary to the noodles I’m making. We often find ourselves multitasking with the limited capacity we have available at our disposal. By the time we juggle with the myriad of responsibilities we accustom ourselves to, the maggi is cooked, and it’s an indication of the fact that the time has indeed passed.

The convenience is that if the water is hot enough, the flavors will work, they will add something to what you have left. The moments, and the masalas that you’re left with always have something to add to your palate.

Pour it into a bowl, a cup, a plate, an ashtray, or any vessel of your choice

When I feel like the Maggi is cooked enough, and the consistency satisfies me; I’ll pour it in a vessel of my choice. The sad part is, if it’s too dry, it’s too late to add more water, and if it’s too soupy; throwing out the extra broth feels like a crime, and overcooking the noodles into a mush is a bigger one on top of that. If this one doesn’t feel right, there’s another packet and another collection of experiences that await you. What feels fair right now is to enjoy what you have, in this moment.

Walk to the room while it’s warm

It’s time to go back to where I came from. To gather my things, to wash my pan, or leave it for later. I try to be careful while picking up the bowl that’s freshly hot. This bowl of fresh memories is too special to fall on the ground and too precious to leave in the pantry. It needs to be with me, in my hands.

Eat at your leisure (if that exists)

I close my door, turn off my lights, and switch on the pink lights that envelope my bed. With the air conditioner on full blast and the comforter hugging my legs, things feel right for the moment. I’m comfortable, in my zone, and happy after a very long time. It’s that bittersweet feeling that the Maggi in the bowl is actually limited, it’s either ending or it already has. Licking the bowl clean would make so much sense in that moment, every speck of the masala and the moments need to be inhaled with the conviction that there’s no more of it left.

You know there’s more Maggi, you know if your stack has emptied out you can buy more from the tuck shop. But there’s no more of THAT Maggi. That bowl of noodles that was once full is now empty and those sets of noodles were limited, the feelings that those noodles lit within you were limited to that time too. There’s no more of that same time again, and the feelings that that time brought you. But they do exist within you, and will always do.

As I finish this article, every experience that these years have brought makes me who I am today. The bowl of Maggi is almost finished, a few noodles persist here and there, and I do too. As I sit and count the memories I’ve made in the meanwhile are the ones that stack up at the back of my mind. What is left with me are those memories. The people who partake in these shared experiences are slowly drifting away, the distance increasing, and everyone is on their way to buy another packet of Maggi. However, we all know that that one bowl of Maggi we all devoured, was enough. But the question remains, are those 2 minutes enough?

Are 2 Minutes Enough?