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“Little Things Make Big Days” – Isabel Marant

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

Edited by: Lavanya Goswami

Guess who’s finally doing offline college and failing miserably at it? This person right
here! Worry not, this is not a rant (I think). I am just going to write about all the moments my
magpie brain noticed, while on campus. Maybe they’re funny to me or something new I noticed,
or just really damn cute incidents.

The lone paper ranger
Zoom was kind enough to take class attendance while we were online. Do you know how
attendance is taken offline? They pass around this flimsy white sheet with rough edges, donated
either by the teaching fellow/teaching assistant or that one lone student in the very first row. The
paper flutters and flirts as it goes from student to student. Some don't have a pen. They’ve
embraced technology. Who needs a pen when you have a stylus? They should figure out a way to
make the stylus work on paper.

The red carpet that is not supposed to be a red carpet
Why is the footpath red and porous? Whatever the reason, I like walking on this weirdly
spongy track, the long, severed tongue of some mythical giant. It makes me want to jump up and
down or glide through the air, my feet as light as butterflies. Horrifying really, the feelings this blood-red footpath inspires in me. This is the running track, with crunchy dry leaves and goopy fruit smatters.

I believe I can fly
The amount of birds on campus is amazing. You have the not-so-friendly neighborhood
pigeons. These lovely perverted pigeons glide into the washrooms and peek at tired students
taking a shower. Their glaring orange-red eyes gave me a heart attack when I looked at the shower stall railings on hearing the flutter of wings.
Smart little fellows with red caps and bossy voices run around the sports fields. I wish I were as productive as them. Their cries echo around me as I rush to swallow my lunch down without chewing the food. I’m late for my 1:30 class.
The trees around the Dhaba hold a multitude of cute birds. They flit from branch to branch, wagging their tails in excitement. Their amazing balance and graceful flight are a stark contrast to the stumbling and giggling Dhaba goers.

A cauldron of magic potion of spit, fog, and sleep
I do not know how the basins clog. I’m not brave enough to put my fingers into the
cloudy liquid to clear out the drain. I just stare at the little bubbles that pop up as the water tries
to swirl down and escape. The white porcelain glints with toothpaste smears and foamy residue.
Why does everyone like mint toothpaste?

The nightly fragrance and pollen allergies

Ah, hay fever and campus hookups! Shy giggles echo in the brightly lit halls as I look
down at the ugly yellow marble floors. Why are the nights so alive here? A night owl like me
does not want any witnesses to their jamming out with crazy moves. Though it is fun to watch
people roll down the grassy slopes of the fields. Or whatever the name of that sunken lawn area

A twirl, a headshake, and a facepalm
I come out of the elevators with the straps of my bag digging into my shoulders. Is this
the right floor? Is this the right RH? Is this Earth?
I turn. And I turn. Oh, the number placards hanging from the ceiling! Those numbers are
on my keys. I’m in the right place!

A magic trick (more magic!)
It's hard to lock my door. It needs more effort than persuading a shy person to attend a
social occasion. Jiggling the handle doesn't work. Rotating the key in the lock thrice doesn't
work. I am ready to find a poultry bird, slit its neck, and dribble blood down the stainless steel. A
blood sacrifice should solve everything.
Let's give it one more try. I release the handle and rest my forehead on the white ply.
Murmur words that are softer than those of love. Push slightly against the door. Turn my wrist
and hold my breath. The metal clicks. I turn the keys another time. The metal clicks again. It's double locked. Angels sing in the background.

Running late

I knew I’d be late for my classes. Yet, the reasons behind my not-so-punctual arrival vary.
It isn’t because I oversleep or forget about the classes. It is because it takes five minutes to lock
my room door. I wait for the lift for ten minutes but ultimately resort to taking the stairs. All
these little times, multiples of five add up. Voila, I am late!

Reality hits me hard these days, as I walk through the maze-like academic blocks. I am
actually in college. I am doing something for a fancy piece of paper. My head swivels to follow
the pacing professors as I sit in class. I have to maintain social eye contact again.
I am a college student. Dear Lord above, help me.

Sthitee is a writer of the content team of the Her Campus Ashoka chapter and is in her first year. She is a huge fan of coffee and loves talking about how awesome nature is. Bribing her with pictures of baby animals is very effective and she's always on the look out for book recommendations.
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