Small talk

Living in a paying guest/ working women’s hostel is not a great option for me. Switch off the lights before so and so, dinner won’t be served after this, the maid/boy/man won’t come to sweep/swab your room everyday. You can’t complain about a single thing because this is the least of the best they can commit with. You fight for the bathroom every morning. Hygiene standards are different from person to person. I hate to step into a bathroom just relieved by someone. If I am cribbing so much, the obvious reactions I would have got by now is why the hell I don’t get married or better still, I should not be a cry baby and a million etc etc solutions. What do you do when your stay at a place is that in-transit feeling? No tenancy rules will come to my rescue and allow me to occupy an independent accommodation. So, the hostel.

1. I used to hate it when my hostel owner would just insist on barging into your room and showing it to prospective hostelites who are new to the cityt any time of the day. We are deaf in the night.

2. I used to hate it when on Saturdays I go down at 10 am and the breakfast is over. I can’t even enjoy my weekend sleep.So, Sunday I am most punctual.

3. I used to hate it when my afternoon lunch has to be between 12 and 2, what if I am not hungry then? What if I want to eat at 3?

4. I used to hate it when the maid uses Surf excel (which is some cheap detergent and not Surf necessarily) to clean the bathroom tiles and the commode.

5. I used to hate it when she used the broom for both the commode and the bathroom floor, yuck!

6. I used to hate it when she insisted she will sweep/swab the room after the bathroom chore.

7. I used to hate it when the gate used to be locked by 10 pm and you cannot enjoy a proper movie or meal, forget shopping.

8. I used to hate it when every morning you came down the stairs, you have 15 pairs of eyes digging into your countenance and attire.

9. I used to hate it when I have to fight for a space at the common dining table.

10. I really used to hate it when people around you spoke in a Martian language and despite your "Excuse me, can you pass the salt/pickle?" they still look at you like you didn't existed.