As a hostel student, I realize the daily (and nightly) issues my lot faces. I will discuss something extremely interesting about the image most (female) hostel students have here in Pakistan but later. With illustrations, of course. But tonight’s post is dedicated to my appetite and the torture it faces during my stay in the dorm. Here in the hostel, especially Pakistani ones, there are timings that you have to allow or someone will rip your kidney out in your sleep. Girls, in particular, are required to follow these rules and if they don’t, there are consequences. For rule-breakers and smashers like me, these rules don’t mean a lot but we face tough situations sometimes. I also advise every one of you who lives in the comfort of their homes to thank God for such a blessing. You have a fridge at your service all the time. There are no curfews, I’m sure. And, I bet my life on this, you don’t have to face a warden who, in all certainty, is Hitler’s female reincarnation. With a Pakistani accent.
“Vat’s goen on, laydiss? Vat’s goen? Huh? Why so much noez? Huh? I report you? Ya?”
Anyway. When I was little, like I guess 10, I had a monobrow and I was really dark skinned and my appetite was like, really weird. I threw fits in the middle of the lounge while my sister ran around with shades on. It was a dysfunctional household, I guess. I’m not very apt at explaining scenarios but I’d like to think I’ve mastered Microsoft Paint for help. Here’s what it was like back then:
So my mother would always make something for me. Really sweet of her, yeah. Until she sent me off to Lahore for what she conveniently calls “education”. Very smooth, mom.
Today I am a warrior. I smear black surma on my cheeks at night and go out to hunt for food. But last night was drenched with absymal cries and screams. There was nothing to eat and my soul – never mind. Look, I was hungry, okay? I was hungry and it was 12 AM and the warden said no one can order food at this time because it could rob me of my virginity. So I went back to my room and found the key to heaven. Nestle chocolate powder.
That’s right. Just powder. Nothing else. No cookies, no kebabs, no rice, no salad, no nothing. Just powder. And we know how hardcore Kasana is. She took 15 spoonfuls of chocolate powder. What happened after that is something I will never tell you about. Ever. But here’s an illustration of what occured that stormy night.