DCSC – Delhi College Of Science & Commerce, University Of Delhi. They call it a matter of pride to be studying in Delhi University but I, being yet another unsatisfied soul, wanted better. Having given up on the hope of getting admission in a North Campus College, I settled for DCSC, a college that I didn't know would become a big reason for who I am today.
As I stood outside the college gate waiting to get in, my eyes couldn't believe the state of the infrastructure that I had already heard so much about. The college gate seemed to be hanging loosely from both the ends and the buildings looked more like that of a century old government school. Needless to say, I wanted to cry my eyes out in that moment but there was nothing I could do. I definitely didn't want to come across as a cry baby in front of the crowd that would see me for the next 3 years.
Disappointed, I checked in and walked straight to the building where classes were supposed to be held. On my way, I looked around to check out some guys and found a few reasons why it wouldn't be so bad to come to college every day. Still traumatised by the college infrastructure, I reluctantly walked towards the Notice Board and tried to push myself through a crowd of people who were just as immature as I was as they tried to catch a glimpse of the notices pinned on the board.
"B.Com. (Honors), 1st year, Section B. Room no. 14, they say.", someone spoke through the crowd.
"B. Com. (Honors), first years', Section B are supposed to be heading to room number 14.", declared a slim girl through the crowd.
"Hi! Are you a first year as well? B. Com. (Honors), first year?", I asked her.
"Yes! Come along. I guess room number 14 is on the first floor.", she said assertively.
I followed the girl as she confidently headed towards the staircase that would take us to the first floor. She seemed to me like a mirror image of myself, just a bit more confident. Alright! A lot more confident.
"Hi, I'm Aasma!", I tried to introduce myself.
She looked back and slowed down a bit to match my steps.
"Hi! I'm Sneha. Are you a Delhiite? ", she asked politely.
"Yeah! I live in Khari Baoli.", I answered with a smile.
"Oh! So you sleep on spices, you bathe with spices and you basically think spices? Right.", laughed Sneha.
"Totally. I'm all about spices. Where are you from?"
"I'm a Delhiite too."
While my self-esteem had already taken a hit in the last 15 minutes of noticing the hot Delhi girls, Sneha somehow looked like someone I could befriend without feeling inferior about myself. Her dressing sense was just as hideous as mine and we had matching hairdos – a sleek ponytail dangling from our heads like a horse tail. It seemed like we were long-lost soul sisters who could talk for hours about split ends and oily skin.