Don't Remind Me

Chapter 2: The Freshman

Then: (11 years ago)

"Welcome Fall Freshman batch! It is with great pleasure that we open IBSA's doors to four years of loafing- cough- learning for yet another bunch of starry eyed idiots- err- wallets- err-letsjustskipthispart.
Dear readers, yours truly has come to know that this year's freshman batch includes celebrity progeny. Not revealing names, but if you find her, do lemme know. I could do with some free designer-wear! *Wink*...." (Nitty Gritty Issue number 321, Dated 4th September 2013)
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It's hard to hide when you arrive at school in an armored vehicle. Institute Of Business Science And Arts (IBSA) is Karachi's top ranked school, and caters to students from all sorts of backgrounds. There are scholarship winners from destitute families, ambitious middle class population who have invested their all in this pricey education...
...and then there are people like me. People from 'old money' families, whose mothers are too damned overprotective to send them away to Oxford (despite endless pleading, and tantrums)

I am wearing a nondescript dress shirt with baggy jeans. A thin brown cashmere shawl helps hide my upper torso; my heart-shaped face almost hidden by the huge hipster glasses Mom got for me. They keep slipping off my tiny nose. #Fashion. My long dark hair is severely tied into a neat bun. I look the opposite of approachable with my blank expression. Perfect for my agenda.

People stopped staring at me once I stepped away from my Land Cruiser and the posse of guards Mom insists on traveling with.

First day of University, and I can't wait to be rid of this place. There are so many eager people here, it'll be difficult to avoid contact with other humans. I wordlessly accepted society brochures from overly helpful senior students. Male seniors were on the lookout for freshman damsels in distress.

"May I guide you to classes?"

"Will you allow me to carry that heavy bag?"

"Oh, you're looking for the cafeteria? I was just heading that way..."

I imagined what it would sound like if everyone actually spoke their minds for today.

"I really don't give a shit what teacher you have for the next slot, but you're kinda hot, so I'll pretend to care...atleast until I find another damsel."

"You do realize that we have huge-ass maps posted in each building's foyer don't you? but I won't ruin your blonde moment; instead, my goal is to send you a facebook request before we reach the library."

"Yes, I'm a fairly intelligent female freshman species. Yes, I'm fully aware where the Auditorium is located, but I curled my hair specially for today, so I'll take any sort of attention I can manage to get from you."

"I'm trying so hard to be nice to you without being bro-zoned for the next four years...."

The same overly gracious seniors were treating male freshmen like deers at a hunt. I saw two guys being thrown unceremoniously in a highly unsanitory looking pond. The ritualistic teasing is affectionately termed "Ragging". It was sort of like the Freshman population's rite of passage, which went on for the first few days of starting university. Even though the School registrar was supposedly very strict about such things, as a retired army general, he only answered to "General" and possibly "Herr Hitler".

I overheard a bunch of Bimbos actually ecstatic about being ragged. That's when I first heard his name.

"Ohmigaah! Syra! This really cute sophomore ragged me *insert giggle* He made me sell boxer shorts to some freshman guys." She blushes like she just got proposed or something. "He even gave me his cell phone number in case I need help. See, Azaan Malik." She waves her cellphone under her friends' nose.