If there is one thing that I have consistently prided myself on it is the fact that I do not get sentimentally attached to a place. Despite being in the same school from 3rd standard to the 12th, I was quite ready to leave it all and move to Bangalore. Despite loving my undergraduate degree and having an enormous circle of friends, I was very excited to begin work. Despite going through what was the most exciting phase of my life at work, I was ready to go do my masters.
I always presumed that the same logic would stick to XLRI as well. I would simply move on and be excited about working again. I told myself this over and over again- through the convocation, through the final dinner and through the final, hurried goodbyes in the airport. It's the proverbial morning after now and I realise that I miss XL with an intensity I didn't know existed.
It hits me suddenly that I can no longer sleepily walk into a friend's room and crib about not wanting to go to class. There will be no more hurried searches for a book to read in class despite not having a pen to write notes with. No more long chai sessions with random conversations. No more power naps. There were will be no more quizzes which reinforce how little I know of the world. No more midnight craving for cheese paratha and convincing four other friends to go stuff their faces with you and then realising that adding a fried maggi and bread burji to your original order is not a bad idea after all. No more making presentations till the very last minute and then eventually presenting a video which says 'Insert text here'.
Looking back, I can now see how much these two years have taught me.
I am glad for those bad grades which taught me that failure is an inevitable part of life. I am even more glad for the friends who hugged me when I couldn't stop crying when I got my first bad grade and even more glad for the friends who laughed at the bad grades along with me and reminded me how little it mattered.
I am relieved for the fights that happened because they truly made me realise exactly how much a few people meant to me.
I am surprised by how much I have learnt outside the classroom and how a plate of cheese maggi with hippo can solve almost any problem in the world.
I am grateful for the wonderful bunch of people I was always with and I can't help being choked thinking of what a difference each one made in my life those two years. They were my family in the truest sense of the word. I could go crying into any one of their rooms and each one in their own special would know exactly what to say. I could make fun and be made fun of. Being part of such a large group made every dinner out a celebration of sorts with a jumbling of orders and eventually ending with ten spoons fighting over a bull's eye. Even going to fill water was an expedition with no less than four people being a part of it. And I can't even begin telling you the advantages of having five friends jostling you out of bed or calling you from class when you have overslept.
It will never be the same again. The emotion at this moment goes way beyond mere nostalgia and the action of 'missing'. XL meri jaan.
I always presumed that the same logic would stick to XLRI as well. I would simply move on and be excited about working again. I told myself this over and over again- through the convocation, through the final dinner and through the final, hurried goodbyes in the airport. It's the proverbial morning after now and I realise that I miss XL with an intensity I didn't know existed.
It hits me suddenly that I can no longer sleepily walk into a friend's room and crib about not wanting to go to class. There will be no more hurried searches for a book to read in class despite not having a pen to write notes with. No more long chai sessions with random conversations. No more power naps. There were will be no more quizzes which reinforce how little I know of the world. No more midnight craving for cheese paratha and convincing four other friends to go stuff their faces with you and then realising that adding a fried maggi and bread burji to your original order is not a bad idea after all. No more making presentations till the very last minute and then eventually presenting a video which says 'Insert text here'.
Looking back, I can now see how much these two years have taught me.
I am glad for those bad grades which taught me that failure is an inevitable part of life. I am even more glad for the friends who hugged me when I couldn't stop crying when I got my first bad grade and even more glad for the friends who laughed at the bad grades along with me and reminded me how little it mattered.
I am relieved for the fights that happened because they truly made me realise exactly how much a few people meant to me.
I am surprised by how much I have learnt outside the classroom and how a plate of cheese maggi with hippo can solve almost any problem in the world.
I am grateful for the wonderful bunch of people I was always with and I can't help being choked thinking of what a difference each one made in my life those two years. They were my family in the truest sense of the word. I could go crying into any one of their rooms and each one in their own special would know exactly what to say. I could make fun and be made fun of. Being part of such a large group made every dinner out a celebration of sorts with a jumbling of orders and eventually ending with ten spoons fighting over a bull's eye. Even going to fill water was an expedition with no less than four people being a part of it. And I can't even begin telling you the advantages of having five friends jostling you out of bed or calling you from class when you have overslept.
It will never be the same again. The emotion at this moment goes way beyond mere nostalgia and the action of 'missing'. XL meri jaan.
