Pushing the heavy suitcase out the train and down to the platform, you stand on the steps of the train, looking at the almost empty station. The morning air is crisp and you look down as you place a foot forward to get down.
Your foot is dangling mid air and you imagine for a moment that the world spins around in a 180° angle. It has spun back four months and things have changed and not changed.
The first time you visited the campus, you remember, there was a young monkey with a broken arm crossing the road. Of course, you had felt sorry then and had almost teared up, but you can now think of it without any excessive emotion considering the havoc its kind caused in the subsequent months. You also remember the depressed dog outside the hostel and you had jokingly thought that you’d never related more to a dog before.
The first day of your stay in the hostel, you remember falling asleep on the mattress, still in its plastic wrapping and no sheets. That night you wouldn’t have thought that in a few days, you’d go out at twelve in the night, to see the red moon through a telescope at the KV grounds. That group selfie that the girls clicked at Gajendra Circle, you will always remember. It was the start of something new, a souvenir from the times you were not exactly friends, just people on the same boat, an obligatory companionship, but still so warm.
Classes were different, is what your go-to response will be, even to your own self; because they were. You couldn’t imagine having an unplanned, random group debate about LGBTQ rights after class, within weeks of meeting each other back in school. Lively discussions, debates and questions. It was not what you had thought it would be, but then again, you can’t quite remember what it was that you had imagined. You wonder if alternating classes of Social studies, English Studies, History, Logic and language had been in your mind as they are now. You can allow yourself to think that something has changed, surely, at least in the way you think. You are now forced to make sense of everything around you with what you know and you know it will be difficult. But it will be okay, as long as you do, slowly.
When a few seniors had mentioned that bathing after midnight is the best time, you had laughed it off. But after a month, as you open your door at two in the night with a bucket in hand, this would cross your mind, until Jerry, the cat with fur black as coal and eyes green as fresh leaves jumps out from the side. For a second, you were alarmed and thought it was all over. You remember kneeling down to pet him and asking him, “Is it a social fact that you’re here now? Are you living up to your own reputation and here to spook people out?” The cat had stared at you for a minute before going on his way, wherever that might be.
You remember lying in bed a lot. You remember sitting there a lot, too. You also remember standing on it, screaming for life when that monkey had come in. It had been a long trip from the time you had fallen asleep on its plastic covering to the constant sanctuary it was now. Some days, you lie in your bed – barely visible, covered in a mess of your clothes, covers and bags. Some days, you lie in your bed – crisp new sheet and made, and it’s almost like home. Some days you sit on your bed – there’s laughing and talks and, you’re surrounded by friends and it’s not home, but it’s a close second.
Explaining what you study sometimes seems more difficult than actually studying. The neighbour lady who had launched into a monologue about how IITs had the cream of engineers and that you should be proud when she learned where you studied had gone quiet when you told her what it is that you studied. She had blinked with a blank expression on her face. She had sputtered and then talked slowly, wondering whether she heard wrong, or if you were mistaken. You had been annoyed at these questions, but now you can think about these with a chuckle, and come up with some better-worded replies.
Your classmates are so smart and well read that it sometimes scares you. Sure, it’s not so bad when you learn that all of them have this thought popping into their minds as well. This, you do talk about, but there’s this uncertainty about studying here, being here, that everyone refuses to discuss. You don’t know what you can expect in yourself after five years, you don’t know what you’ll do after five years, you don’t know what you can expect in a course in the coming semesters, and you can’t even predict how the next day’s class will be. You know the lingering feeling of slight disappointment hanging around, almost invisible and subtle, around people. Yes, something was not what they expected it to be. But you can’t put a finger on it, and neither can anyone else. None of you know with what exactly you’re disappointed, because you don’t quite know what you had expected either. Job prospects, career plans, or just what you want to do in life, all seem like questions that belong in the delightful tomorrowland. You just hope it’s not too much for you when you finally get there, too.
Things were free and open there, you can admit, at least more than you’ve ever known. People love a good laugh, a good read and more. You can’t imagine anything more you’d like to add. And you suppose that’s as good as it can be.
Your foot is still raised and you begin to descend when a hard push from behind does the job for you. You look back and see a horde of people rushing out as if for a marathon. You clutch your suitcase and wave at your parents when you see them in them standing some distance away. The train begins to leave the station and you take a moment to watch it. The world has turned back around. Yes, it’s as good as it can be.
Article by Meghna M
Poster by Sanjana Acharya
Article 19 