SS5-50A

A Note to Readers: I have introduced two people in this blogpost, whom you will hear more about, as the story progresses. They are beautiful people, and I hope I am able to express how important they are to me, through my work. This is a long blogpost, apologies if it takes up a lot of your time to read.

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I try to keep up with the girl, while trying to wheel in three suitcases and carry a large bag and a backpack. We enter a large courtyard, surrounded by tall buildings. There are tables and benches in the middle, with a wooden grill-form of a shed covering them from bad weather. Tents have been set up around the furniture, with more people in red t-shirts asking new students to fill in forms and take their keys. I am taken to one such desk, where a lady hands over a tablet to me, and I fill in my details. I rake my memory for my flat and room number, and fill in whatever comes to mind, hoping it is right. ‘Well, you’re officially a resident of SSA. Here are your keys. The key-card opens the doors to your block, whereas the big key opens the lock to your flat and room. The smallest key here is for your flat locker. Keep checking it for any new mail. Oh, that building behind you is Block Five, where you’ll be staying.’

I thank her, and move away, giving space to the students lined up behind me. Block Five is to my left, diagonally, and is one of the corner buildings. It takes me a good five minutes to take everything to the front doors before I touch the key-card to open the glass doors. They whip open faster I can react, and most of my luggage topples down on coming in contact with the doors. Smart. You couldn’t even figure out which way the doors will open. As I am picking them up, someone calls out to me. ‘Hey, I’ll help you.’ I see a guy walk over to me, and I step away as he puts my stuff into the lift. ‘There isn’t enough space for both of us. I’ll come up the stairs. Just press 5.’ He runs up, and I start rehearsing my thankyous. I wish I was better at talking to strangers, but I am not. It is something I will have to work on while I am here.

When the doors open, he is already there, panting a little. That was fast. Is he an athlete? There is a short corridor to the right of the elevator, after which a door greets us. ‘This is the common entrance to Flats 49 and 50. If you go inside, you’ll see that there are separate doors leading to both flats. This is yours.’ I look at the number 50 carved on the door in silver, as he twists the key into the lock. A click and push later, we are in. From the flat group-chat I am on, I know our flat is smaller than some others. There are only five rooms and a kitchen. We stand in a carpeted corridor, with four rooms on the left (A to D) and one room (E) and the kitchen on the right. There is an electricity shaft right by the entrance, which I presume we are prohibited from opening. An intercom device hangs between the shaft and the kitchen door, looking painfully lonely on the otherwise empty white walls.

I am in Room A, and I ask myself if I made the right decision choosing a room where the noise of people entering both flats will cause disturbance. The guy uses one of my suitcases to keep my room door open, while he puts everything else inside. ‘I’m keeping your keys on the table here. If you face any problems, just come down to reception. They will help you. Welcome, by the way.’ I try to express gratitude, but it sounds incoherent. Once he has left, it hits me that I didn’t even ask his name. You are rude, you know.

I close the door and take in the view before me. On the right, a little ahead of the door, is the wet-room. Opening it to check if everything is fine, I find that the toilet has no cover. Is that a thing here? The bedframe starts where the wet-room ends. On the left, attached to the wall I share with the corridor is a large cabinet. Two large panels open to reveal a tall hanging space, four shelves and an open space to keep the dustbin. It is bigger than I had imagined. Like the Tardis. Next to the cabinet is the study table. There is a ledge-like space on top to decorate and keep display items. Right underneath, between the ledge and the table-top is a softboard of sorts, with many pin holes. Is this where the pictures go? Towards the right end of the desk are three shelves hanging an inch above the floor. There is a good deal of space between the desk and the only window in the room. I look out and see the street where I had been dropped off by the cab. Ah, so it doesn’t face the main street. That is good. The buildings nearby are not tall enough to obstruct the view of the city, and I find myself quite liking the scenery. Why did the accommodation group chat make the room seem like a hell-hole, when it is decent?

I shrug off the negativity that had been instilled into me before I even arrived and decide to go and check out the kitchen. Wait, one of my flatmates moved in yesterday. He must be here. What do I do when I meet him? Do I greet him like we’ve never interacted before, or do I talk with familiarity?  The alternatives to squeaking out an awkward greeting pop up in my head as I walk to the kitchen. I open it and am immediately put in a social situation that I am not prepared for. ‘Hi! You must be Hina. I am Aaron. Did you just move in? I thought I heard someone.’

He is tall. Hina, can you not? Can you please focus on replying instead? ‘Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you.’ Give me a few days, and I swear I’ll seem easier to talk to. ‘Great! Well, I have taken the top-most shelf in the fridge, and those two cabinets on the side for my things. Everything else is up for grabs.’ I didn’t hear a word of what you just said, I am way too nervous right now. I nod and smile, hoping it is the right response. He tells me he will be in his room (C) if I need anything, and leaves. Well, that went well. I take a quick look around, choose my shelves and cabinets and go back to my room, to start unpacking.

I start with the box that was delivered to my room a few days before I arrived, which contains bathroom and bedroom essentials. It takes me over half an hour to place my fitted bedsheet onto the mattress. Why is this so difficult? The duvet cover takes another fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, voices from the corridor make me curious. I peep out and see two different families moving luggage inside Rooms D and E. After my interaction with Aaron, I decide to postpone the hellos until tomorrow. I move around a lot, opening one suitcase after another, dumping everything on the bed before putting it away. When it is 8, I finally stop, too tired to continue. I shove the suitcases under the bed, happy to see that they fit just right (a real Cinderella moment) and take a quick shower before collapsing on the swivel chair provided with the desk. It squeaks when I sit down, but then so do all chairs I sit on, so I am not too alarmed.

I text my mom that I am done for the day and ask her if she is still awake. She is not, and so I open Instagram to see if there are any BTS updates. While skipping people’s stories, I land on a friend’s who has posted that she moved into SSA today, at the same time as I did. I met Karena through a WhatsApp group, and we’ve been talking since mid-August. I think for a few minutes and then decide to text her, asking if she wants to meet. My stomach starts to rumble, and I run to the kitchen to eat the leftover food from the hotel. When I come back, she has already replied, saying she is out with her family for dinner and can meet me tomorrow morning, at 11. Relieved to know she didn’t say no, I tell her the time suits me. I really made plans without any prior planning. Look at me, I am already changing.

After watching two episodes of Descendants of the Sun, I decide to go to bed. In anticipation of meeting her tomorrow, I lay awake for a few minutes before my heavy eyelids give in. The last thing I remember is watching the clouds clear away and the moonlight lighting up the dimly lit room.