Edited by: Aneesha Chandra
“College is made up of the friends you make,” says the misty-eyed, slightly tipsy, and very nostalgic parent, in the few weeks before college starts. “Everyone you talk to in college will be connected to you in some way,” says my own slightly tipsy father, as I frantically color-code my Excel spreadsheet with a list of things to buy for college. A college that I’ve never even been to. These platitudes become strikingly relevant in an online semester, wherein our only tangible conception of college is the friends we make and the people we talk to. In the absence of any classes in orientation week, friends, acquaintances, and that one person who texts you asking you for a Zoom link before every session become all that we associate with college. Orientation week entails a diversity of experience and talking to new people, but it also entails encountering some very…unique/not-so-unique types of people:
1. The Obvious Econ Student
When, inevitably, someone complains about the college tuition fee on the batch group, this person chimes in with, “Did you know, they raise the fees every year to adjust for inflation?”
When someone says, “Valentine’s-Day-driven consumerism is the actual vomit expelled by the capitalist system,” in an obvious attempt to rile them up, they struggle to defend themselves because they secretly agree.
Appeasement when the entire group revolts: “Capitalism isn’t necessarily a better alternative, but Communism has its faults too.”
They probably applied to Ashoka to be taught by Arvind Subramanian and are now perpetually sad because of his absence; they never miss a chance to point this out. This prospective econ major did MUNs in high school — their ears visibly perk up when they hear a gavel bang. This is highly correlated with the likelihood of them being a PolSci major as well.
2. The Extrovert™
This person has miraculously befriended the entire batch and has an unlimited social battery. They’ll text you first, and can somehow keep the conversation from dying well past the standard questions about your major, minor, and where you’re from. They’ll reply with three messages while you’re still typing your first; with superhuman socializing abilities comes extraordinary typing speed.
Everyone knows them, or of them, or refers to them by their Instagram username. They seem to have inside jokes and personalised stickers of every second person on the batch group and are somehow relatable to everyone. When you look at them you’ll probably feel friendless, or contemplate the hermit lifestyle, given that — in comparison — you’re halfway there already. And then you eventually realise that you might get carpal tunnel if you texted as much as them, and decide to be content with the friends you do have, for the sake of your physical health.
3. The Flirt
This person has two guitars hanging on the walls of their room and has several Instagram posts showcasing them. They probably only know how to play one (1) Beatles song and constantly make innuendos about how knowing how to play the guitar has equipped them with several necessary skills.
Or, they work out for two hours every day, and casually post pictures of their “gains” on their Instagram stories. Or photo-text you with said gains, instead of photos with their hand covering half of their face, like a normal, insecure person.
Alternatively, they write poetry and line the margins of their writing notebook with tastefully drawn portraits of the “female form” because they’re just “appreciating its beauty, in a completely non-objectifying manner.” When they try to flirt with you, they write you poems akin to that one letter James MacAvoy wrote in Atonement.
4. JEE topper + 1600 SAT scorer
They won’t openly brag about it to the batch group, but somehow everyone will know their JEE rank and their SAT score, as well as all the US colleges they got into but didn’t go to because of the pandemic.
You question your maths and English skills when you talk to them, envisioning the hours of prep and the 5-kilo prep book they must have lugged around for months to get their score. You probably did four practice tests and fell asleep at your desk while doing the fifth.
I have this friend; he was saved on my phone as “1600”. He sent me crochet yarn once. SAT scores matter but friends who gift you yarn matter more, and now I’m crocheting him a beanie. Moral of the story: I don’t know, but if anyone else wants to send me some yarn I’ll happily accept, regardless of your SAT score. Everyone will forget about the SAT score in a few months, but no one will forget the beanie because it’ll be worn every winter.
5. Pun intended
This person makes puns in every conceivable situation and has zero self-awareness of the fact that they are abjectly terrible, and sky-high confidence to go with it. Everyone laughs at the puns, all because they’re always followed up by “I’m so great, I make the best puns.” So everyone laughs, and wonders how warped their sense of humour has become because of this one person.
They somehow get everyone to privately send their most comically expressive photos, which are inevitably made into stickers and reaction memes. These are used non-stop for one week and then forgotten about entirely. Why do I have ten stickers of someone I’ve never spoken to in my saved stickers from more than a year ago? Their fault.
6. Impostor Syndrome inducer
This person is objectively the coolest and most intimidating person you’ve ever met. They play at least one instrument, have been training in Bharatanatyam since they were 6 weeks old, have an NGO named after them, literally built the Cowin website for the government (why the delayed OTPs? shame), and have 12 pieces published in the New Yorker. They also do some freelance work for a startup and have a paid content writing internship. Their GPA will be 4.90, and they plan on doing a triple major.
Some of these people will be your friends throughout college, and you won’t talk to some at all as soon as Orientation week ends. Some, like me, will take weeks to reply to your texts, and others will triple text you with zero shame, which is the way to be. In any case, you can think of these online friends as akin to Schrödinger’s Batchmates. If they only manifest as names in the participant’s list on your Whatsapp group, do they really even exist?