There is dog hair on my keyboard…(Not a very good opening line to the first blog that I’ve ever written) but I’m glad I discovered it before my mother did. Which dog was over the keyboard is something that I don’t know. What my dog was doing over the keyboard is something that I don’t want to know

It takes me an hour to reach college. I take the college bus. No 55 which takes sixty people when it can accommodate only fifty. But that’s the case with all engineering colleges. In my old college, I can't recall a time when I wasn’t sitting on the footboard.35% of road accidents occur when people fall off footboards.Missed my step and I would have been a part of the statistic that I made up now. Anyway there are four girls at my stop.

‘S’ who manages to look perfect every single morning starts off her day with a “Do I look like a beggar? An old maid?”. It annoys me when pretty people fish. It’s the not so pretty ones who need to do that. I’ve never bothered combing my hair before college. The one hour that I spend sticking my head out of the window like a dog messes it up anyway. When you don’t have that special someone to impress, it really doesn’t matter whether you're clothes don't match or you're wearing dirty blue bathroom chappals. Its only when you spot a cute guy from another department that you spend the previous night searching for that ironed salwar.

Another friend has this adorable hard-to-imitate accent. “Wut da machan. Vering kajal tuday?. Oo you like in your class huh?”

My sister who is perpetually late. I think she would be truly happy if she had a mirror attached to her body that is strategically placed in front of her face. Or a bevy of photographers.

Last and definately not the least a first year girl who asked my lispy third year friend if she was in her second year. If looks could kill.... To make it worse, she interpreted the glare quite wrong and said “Oh sorry. Are you in first year too?”. The butcher knife at the mutton shop looked very appealing then to my friend. If the bus hadn’t arrived, the first year would have been hanging along with the carcass of the goat. But She is a pretty thing. Pretty compared to us third years. Matching earrings, a new bag, pretty shoes, hair in place. Snazzy new cell phone. Comes with the excitement of joining college. I’m going to come back to that stop in a year to see what she really looks like. When she realizes that 18 year old boys are only obsessed with Monica belluci, grand theft auto and food.