BHAKKKKKKK SECTION 66A

Every morning feels like I’m starring in the same tragic rom-com: me and my bed are in true love, but the villain of the story—school—just won’t let us be together. And the sad part? Alarms aren’t even in the picture. I don’t use alarms. If I did, I’d miss school seven days a week. That’s why I have Papa. He’s my very own alarm clock with a heart—aka princess treatment. 

And his Elementary, My Dear Watson line? “Soja baby, sona ho toh.” Every. Single. Morning. That’s his signature dialogue. He says it like he’s offering me a palace of sleep, velvet curtains, a lullaby, the whole deal. And of course, all I want to do is melt back into my rajai and say, “Haan papa, MUJHE TOH RAASTA AND BAHANA CHAHIYE.” He's not a psychology student, damn, can he play reverse psychology well! Then I surrender to the 75% attendance rule is standing there with a danda, ready to end my career before it even starts.

So I drag myself out. Hair messy, eyes half-shut, soul not present. Then comes school. I enter, and the first thing I say to myself is "fuck yaar ghar jaana hai". Everybody in the class knows it. If I look at you, you know what words are gonna come out of my mouth. 

And in class, while ma’am is yapping about the judiciary or the importance of “fundamental rights,” all I can think of is my rajai, my takiya, the AC humming, and a dark, shaant room. Basically, heaven.

And then today, during school, Papa’s voice echoed in my head again—“Soja baby.” Some days, I honestly feel I should just be reckless, a bad student, and actually sleep in class. Toh teachers kya hee bolenge? “She toh is like that only.” And I’ll be like—YES, MA’AM, HANJI, THAT IS MY BRAND. 

Because imagine: 3 din ki chhutti, Sunday ka chicken, halwa, chips, games, full masti—aur phir Monday 7 baje koi bole, “Beta, open your book and study Section 66A of the IT Act.” Like, excuse me?? First of all, FACT CHECK—Section 66A doesn’t even exist anymore. It was struck down in 2015 by the Supreme Court. Matlab, why am I even here? Teach it to me at 8:30 when the world is at least awake. Why so early? Kyun, kyun?

And you know what this reminds me of? I was watching The Summer I Turned Pretty and Usmei Beech mei Coach brand ka advert aata hai. The ad shows a woman casually touching the Coach logo on her purse, and suddenly—poof—everything around her freezes. Like, time literally stops for everyone else. PETITION TO BUY ME A COACH KA BAG SOLELY FOR SCHOOL. Imagine… ma’am mid-rant about Article 21, and I just touch my bag—bas, sab freeze. Main quietly nap le leti hoon class ke beech. That’s the real luxury, forget “princess treatment.”

But alas, I’m an “obedient child.” So I sit there. Yawning. Eyes shutting. Fighting the gravitational pull of my desk. Because the one time I put my head down, ma’am’s face hovered right over mine, staring with disappointment like I’d betrayed the Constitution itself. And I know what comes next—mom getting a call: “Bacchi soya karti hai class mein.”And then me, wrapped like a spring roll in my rajai, with Mumma sitting on top as punishment. (Mumma, sorry, this is jokes—you’d actually be the first one to say, “soja.”)

So here I am, still yawning, still rubbing my eyes, still wishing someone would roll me back into my rajai and shut the curtains. But kya karu? Legal ka kaam baaki hai. Judiciary, Constitution, Rights… sab pending. Life’s just this cycle of wanting sleep and getting lectures instead. And maybe one day, I’ll win the war with mornings. But aaj nahi. Aaj toh bas ek aur chapter kholna hai. 🥱

So I hope you relate and protest against it too!

hehe

As Ever,

Ambikaaa