Edited by: Anusha SharmaÂ
Oh, no, where are my earphones? I could’ve sworn they were in my bag. I’m standing in this winding, snaking mess line at 1:24 p.m. and it is just not the time to be facing a meal alone. I know my brain’s functioning at about eight percent battery and really cannot sustain any activity except music, and that every single one of my friends is holed up in a different corner of the library, cramming for midterms. But my earphones aren’t here, and in what feels like a fever dream, I recall my roommate leaving for class earlier today and calling out behind her, “Babe, I’ve taken your earphones, hope that’s okay!” No, no, that’s okay. I’ll just go eat my lunch while staring into the distance and contemplating my falling GPA. I just love midterm week!
The mess is excessively noisy at this time of day. Everyone’s just been let out of their 11:50 classes and is trying to feed themselves before rushing off to do the next thing. But most people, unlike me, seem to have seven different conversations to attend to in this half an hour window. And while most people would also find eavesdropping impolite, I am just tired enough not to care and they are just loud enough for it not to be my fault.
“Listen, if I do one chapter every 45 minutes, I should be done in time for dinner, right?” “You don’t understand, I can’t cancel on her.”
Ah, young love. I smile into my paneer. Of course, I’m rooting for him, he looks like a first-year, and he seems so excited. Plus, I can swear that I have done the same kind of planning twice today, except I’m doing it because I haven’t slept in days, and I will not be able to stay up past 8 pm. Tonight I will go to bed with my statistics textbook, and the two of us will be perfectly happy together. I don’t need anything else; I chant. Something about affirmations.
“Yes Ma, I’ve slept properly. Don’t worry, I’ve studied. Yes, of course, I’ll call you after. Okay. Bye, bye. See you.”
The person across from him is on the phone with someone I’m assuming is their mother, and I’m almost certain they’re lying through their teeth – they look as though they’ve slept even less than me. This was such a sweet conversation to overhear, but I think if I were to call my mother, she would immediately sense my deteriorating standard of living (which I’m sure this person’s mother could tell too) and fly me home the very next day. I’m also terrified that she’ll ask after my finances, and I will have to tell her that I have no money left because I’ve bought cup noodles twenty-three times this weekend.
 “Should I do LSD or weed?!”
This one’s yelling about drugs in the middle of the mess. Her friend who’s just sat down gives her a look, and she hastily explains that no, she’s not considering breaking some laws, she’s just picking a topic for her midterm paper that’s due tonight. Her friend looks a little disappointed at this declaration. Imagine exploring the socio-political ramifications of the presence of a particular drug on the lives of various economic and cultural strata in society. It is absolutely bizarre that these are the themes liberal arts expects you to write about. I have simply had enough of this.
There are also two people sitting at the same table as I am, but I couldn’t tell you what they were saying if I tried. I think I caught the word “epsilon” somewhere. It’s probably a formula to calculate something about the mass of the universe. Or it’s a Computer Science code. It could be astrology for all I care, I have no energy to try and comprehend this. I’m tired, and my Statistics course awaits me. I walk towards the bussing station, and to top off this wonderful afternoon, I catch a joke about bussing it down. Suddenly, my spirits feel lifted, and all is right in the world.
I quietly follow @overheardatashoka on Instagram. (No, this article is not sponsored by or affiliated with the account in any sense. I’m just a huge fan.) What a time it is to be alive. Â