The Hostel Diaries:Overthinking edition

 So apparently my body clock has beef with me, because I woke up at 6:41 AM on a Saturday. Like… excuse me??? Weekend is for beauty sleep, not “rise and grind.” Couldn’t even go back to sleep, so I did the most desi daughter thing ever...called my parents. At this point, they’re my caffeine, therapy, and alarm clock all in one.

Then came the laundry chronicles. Me, standing like a tragic 2000s movie heroine with dripping clothes in my hand, when suddenly..plot twist...group of airforce boys chilling outside. And my brain? BROKE. One half: “Main character moment!! Dilwale Dulhania vibes!!” Other half: “Relax. You’re literally holding a bucket of Ariel detergent. Shah Rukh Khan is not entering stage.”

By noon, overthinking decides to clock in for overtime. Today’s episode: “What if my bestie goes abroad and forgets me?” Mind you, bestie is literally still here, but my brain already wrote a goodbye speech, made a Spotify sad playlist, and mentally lit three candles in their honor.

And oh, presentations. My inner theatre kid is like, “you’ll be fine,” but my anxiety is screaming: “what if you blank out and your prof stares like you just committed a crime against Shakespeare??” Meanwhile, sir is probably at home chewing garlic and not thinking about me at all.

Fast forward to evening....I decide to “Netflix and chill”… alone. Which, in my world, means psychoanalyzing every character. “Would I survive in this show? Would I get the hero’s dramatic love monologue?” Spoiler: I’d be that background character who gets one line and disappears.

But THEN....the hostel room empties. Finally, my cue. My own stadium concert. Door locked. Music blasting. And suddenly I’m Beyoncé, Ranveer Singh, and Hrithik Roshan all rolled into one. Jumping on my bed, dramatic Bollywood steps, imaginary crowd screaming my name. My hair’s a bird’s nest, my slippers are in another dimension, but honestly? That’s peak joyyyyy...

So yeah… that’s my hostel weekend. Some spirals, some garlic-professor nightmares, some airforce-boy cameos, and a full-blown private dance concert. Who even needs clubs when my own brain is already a 24/7 circus show??????