It was one such night and I was trying to study something I would rather not get into the details of (I don’t want to write a book, I am happy with just a blog). I was studying with two of my buddies and we were sweating it out for three straight hours. We had dinner that night before we started studying and yet found ourselves starving. Thinking about it now, it was probably an escape mechanism generated sub consciously as we were not able to understand a thing.
Whatever the reasons, we decided we had to eat and I rummaged through the refrigerator for food but in vain. Just three hours back we had devoured almost everything that was edible! Just when I thought my escape mechanism had failed miserably my friend found three eggs, to our delight and misery. I say delight because he found something to eat and misery because, well each of us were capable of eating at least thrice the amount of food we had found.
Something, they say is better than nothing and we began making omelets. My friend unable to stand the starvation went first and in haste he tried making an omelet with the burner at its highest and ended up making charcoal out of it. My other buddy went next and this time he had turned the burner down and yet managed to make charcoal. It was because he did not wait long enough for the pan to cool down. Anyway I went next and mysteriously instead of an omelet what I made was a rock solid tasteless piece of $#!@. It was so hard that we could not break it into three so we could eat. Anyway, the three eggs ended up in the trash and our faces were as burnt as the omelets with disgust and hunger.
I knew all along that I was bad at cooking but I could not believe I was so bad. People usually give up after failures but I was more determined than ever to cook something to eat. Or am I giving myself undue credit? Yeah, it was just that I was so hungry that I had to eat something or die! I chose the former. Fortune, it is said, favors the brave. I was brave enough to cook something and luckily I found good old noodles. On it was written what made noodles so famous: “Two Minutes”. And I thought I was the luckiest guy on earth.
I did not want my friends to spoil the simple noodles, so I told them I would cook and I did not want them in the kitchen. Reading cooking instructions was extremely silly, in my opinion. I mean how difficult can it be. Definitely not as much as what I was studying. So I just started cooking intuitively and I was done not with noodles, which I had intended to do in the first place but with noodle soup/paste/pulp which killed our appetite even before we tasted it because I had used at least five times more water than what was necessary. It turned to be a pulpy fluid which made you throw up if you looked at it for more than 10 seconds.
That is not the worst part of the story yet. I know you might find this hard to believe but the whole procedure took me 30 minutes. I was considering suing the company for falsely stating that all it took was two minutes but my friend told me it had the general public in mind when it said that and not retards who did not know how to read the instructions.
I did not go back to study that night and I went to bed because I knew what my friends would have me read first. So there is one more thing about student life that does not make it to the list: “bad cooking”. But people miss it intentionally as it is kind of embarrassing. Although people miss it, that is the first thing that comes to my mind when talking about student life. Unforgettable! I must say.
