Supritha is not just a person you encounter; she is a full-blown Holi experience you are bulldozed into. Subtlety is definitely not her strong suit; she is a live human subtitle. The closest analogy is this: you walk into a museum expecting to nod at pale minimalism, like you understand what a red circle in a yellow rectangle is trying to express. And then you collide into The Starry Night—loud, dramatic, and unapologetic—leaving you wide-mouthed. That is Supritha, Supakka, Supriya (utter at your own risk), Jesuspritha (miracles pending), Myntra Kurta Girl (single-handedly sustaining their quarterly revenue).
We first met during a Board interview session in a boring, dead-silent hallway. And there she stood—a wavy-haired, smol, shimmering ball of chaos and conviction. My polite hello was met with a toothy grin and a 45-minute conversation. It was easy, warm, and mildly dangerous before an interview. Most people leave impressions; she leaves case studies. Since then, I’ve witnessed iconic Suprithavatars that remain immortalised as stickers. The eye-roll, the “I’m disappointed in your existence” look, the bucket-hat kid look… the list goes on.
She has 4 states of existence: galloping around college like a happy horse, sleeping, eating (or planning to), or judging you better than your dead ancestors. Food, for her, is not survival—it’s saath-janam ka rishta. Masalpuri, golgappa, momos, and RRR biryani are her eternal lovers. Add ghee or butter on top; you’ve scored jail time (but KitKat earns you bail). When she is not eating, planning, or recovering from it, she is sleeping (her longest-standing commitment). Chairs, floors, mid-convo, pillows or no—sleep never cheats on her. She once left milk on the stove and fell into dreamland for two hours. The milk evolved. She did not.
Her logic still remains a mystery to the uninitiated. Supritha deems pronouns negotiable; her political opinions are anything but. Sharp, precise, informed, and slightly too accurate for public comfort (still questioning the delay in your political career, Jesuspritha). Her social presence is like a rogue state with a seat at the UN SC—unpredictable and ever-present in matters that escalate quickly. Her crochet skills? Impeccable. Her art? Depends on the day. Dress codes exist because she has an outfit picked out. Geography bends (every Eddie lies within a 500m range). Cat pictures arrive at “ungodly” hours (we ain’t Egyptians, Sups). Existential questions enter without warning (keep digging, babe). “Road babies” require no paperwork, just emotional acquisition. And college should be banned. Why? Because it steals her from her furbabies (Kendall, Pintu, and Mintu—her dog and cats, gender undecided). She cares fiercely about the people, the animals, and the beliefs she holds.
She is, quite frankly, why calm never stood a chance. In a Board full of quirky personas, she is the high tide. She sharpens her edges in a world that asks people to soften them, and then wraps them in warmth. She grows on you when you least expect it. And if you ever find yourself laughing loudly, staying longer, and leaving brighter (with the belief that yellow is superior and Tollywood reigns supreme)… shhh, don’t question it. That’s just Supakka leaving behind her trail of magical sunflowers and late-landing typo-filled jokes!