The sun shines bright and sleepy over Ashoka this morning.
Andrea, the willowy tree beside the amphitheater leans in closer to the grass to hear what they have to say about this morning’s breakfast. The little blades twitter excitedly Andrea gathers, that the chocolate pancakes were a moderate success.
She doesn’t even smile. Andrea is a little jaded.
She stays rooted in her spot and tries to drown out the high-pitched wailing of the loud YouTuber vlogging 10 feet away from her. Andrea’s leaves tilt ever so slightly to the left and she is surprised to find a sleepy-looking boy slumped beneath her sunny branches. He looks tired but determined. His eyes are lined with circles, and his shoulders are droopy. She spots his half-empty sipper full of steaming black coffee and almost tsks.
These kids don’t know when to give themselves a break
She calls to the breeze and gently whispers something into its ears. The breeze knocks the sipper over and the half-dead boy slumps over in the grass as his eyes give way to sweet, sweet sleep.
The morning melts into early afternoon as the sun charts its way across the half-blue horizon. Post-lunch nappers, pseudo-intellectuals, and golden hour fanatics flood her lawns. Andrea glances down as someone dumps their bag beneath her. Canvas boots, a Steve Jobs turtle neck, and a woolen bandanna.
Andrea gathers that angsty chick takes herself a little too seriously and she drops a little frangipani onto her lap. She smiles as the angsty chick’s lips quiver into a small smile. The Gulmohar next to her leans in and nudges Andrea. She points to a group of people around the infamous Rat.
The Gulmohar is a gossipy one, she is the equivalent of a red-lipsticked, loose-lipped aunty. Andrea smiles serenely as Aunty Gul updates her on ‘who’s’ doing what and ‘who’s doing who‘ on campus.
Andrea doesn’t really give a fuck, but she can’t exactly excuse herself and walk away the way other humans do.
She’s quite rooted that way.
Andrea tunes aunty Gul out as she glances up at the YIF lounge balcony thing in AC02. A woman in a long cardigan gazes down, her arms pushed up against the railing. She looks like something out of a movie. Andrea wonders what’s on her mind.
Unfortunately, the trees on campus just aren’t tall enough to reach her. There are some things that Andrea will never know. She has learned to be okay with it.
Andrea eyes a group of friends by the amphitheater. They are spread out on a cute picnic blanket, they snapshot themselves against the 4 pm sunshine and smile goofily. Another group sits 10 feet away from her. They have a more studious vibe. Clad in ripped denim and block print kurtas, these kids are the artsy intellectuals. They look like they belong in a coffee shop somewhere.
Andrea loves coffee.
Members of the illusive administration saunter past her lawns casually, cups in hand. She cannot recognize a single one of them.
She does not try.
Strains of Shaggy rip through the afternoon and Andrea almost breaks out into song. She hums along to ‘It wasn’t Me’, as her voice whistles through the wind and tickles the nape of the grumpy girl’s neck.
A boy and a girl cross her as they walk to the mess. Friends, lovers, or nothing? She watches them, eyes too bright, arms swingy, voices singy.
Young love!
Andrea gives them two months tops.
Andrea glances back down at the grumpy girl leaning against her trunk. She peers into her laptop as the girl types officiously, back ramrod straight. Andrea laughs as she realizes she is writing about her.
The sun sets slowly and the grass grows damp. Andrea swats the flies away from her leaves and yawns. Tuesday wraps itself up in the sunset and makes way for Wednesday.
The world moves on.