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In the 78th edition of As We Leave 2026, Aditya a Y22 student from the Department of Statistics and Data Science, reflects on a transformative journey of discovering identity, embracing ambition, and finding belonging at IIT Kanpur. Through stories of friendship, campus communities, creative pursuits, hard-earned dreams, and moments of introspection, he explores how college is less about becoming someone new and more about understanding who you already are. Ultimately, his story is a heartfelt tribute to the people and communities that turned a campus into home, leaving him with memories, purpose, and a deeper sense of self.
PROLOGUE
I always knew I’d write an AWL. When I was a CGM, I worked on an AWL that was quite bland and read like a written CV. My first and foremost hope, therefore, is that Dishita has more fun working on this one than I did when I was in her shoes :). But now that I’m on the other end, it’s a tricky line to tread. Dear reader, you are at most 4 years younger than me. I do not have nearly as much wisdom to offer you as I thought I would by this point. But I will try my best to ensure you walk out of this with something to smile about and, hopefully, something to think about.
Once upon a time in a distant land, there lived a little rabbit. The rabbit had lived under a rock for two years while the world outside was ravaged by a storm, the likes of which the world had never known, and the rabbit had all the time in the world to think. And so he thought. And he thought
The rabbit thought quite a lot about himself because he really is all he had to think about. And soon the rabbit thought he knew all there was to know about himself, and he believed this core would never be shaken.
And thus, as the storms subsided, the rabbit set out into the world, upon the Everglades that called to all rabbits that turned of age. The Everglades were a strange place. Full of possibility and potential. Rabbits of all kinds showed up to the Everglades. And our little rabbit, let’s call him P, felt quite overwhelmed.
Under his little rock, life was all about him, but here? Life was about everything but him. Our little P did not like that one bit. So he set about the Everglades, trying to carve out a piece that would be his and his alone.
The following is by far not all I have to say, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to achieve that. It is at the very least true. And raw. I hope you enjoy.
P.S. Shoutout to my sister for the title.
ACT I—the Discovery
P felt quite taken aback by this new land. The other rabbits there spoke differently. They laughed at different things, and they did things differently. They were rabbits, yes, all, at the end of the day, and yet he felt so far away.
He did not know if he would find his own fluffle. He drifted from group to group, seeking to find rabbits that would claim him as their own, and he would attempt to claim other rabbits as his.
It was not easy, and it was daunting at times. But the rabbit knew he did not want other rabbits that did just as the ones at home did. The rabbit wanted to grow, and to grow, he needed to see beyond the little rock he grew up under.
And soon he found them.
Picture this. A freshly legal kid, with eyes full of wonder, a stomach full of flu, and a head barely full of hair. I have no energy at this point. The sun has sucked out anything the flu left behind. And the wonderful room services of the very grand hotel celebration have left me incapable of physical recovery.
I stumble to my room, seeking shelter from the heat and a moment’s respite from the terribly long room key-receiving process. Dear reader, I knew Hindi very well. I’d learned it for 10 years after all. But oh, imagine my surprise at finding out the general populace does not speak as they do in the textbooks. “Dhoop toh bohot hai,” I believe, were my first words to Suneet Maharana’s father, words that immediately made Suneet decide I was to be bullied.
This was a momentary reaction, of course; most of any clout I had in this institute in those first months came from Suneet and Vignesh regaling their very large social circles with tales of my supposed rap talent (talent that I quite superbly showcased at the fresher’s night performance. Iykyk)
Suffices to say, the learning curve was not easy. I found myself constantly seeking out the others from Bangalore and the south to try and speak as myself, and not a character I was forced to adopt every time I spoke Hindi.
Dear reader, anyone in my batch will tell you I’m the funniest guy around. (No, really). But in Hindi? Language is a huge part of your personality. It was humbling to learn that awkward and charismatic (or at least slightly less awkward) are two sides of the same coin, a coin that flips every time you switch languages.
Getting comfortable with a newer language is hard. Being able to speak it and still be interesting is even harder. It’s a journey for anyone who comes from the south. But if anyone wants my advice, the effort is worth it. The right people will stick by you and hear you fail time and time again, and the laughs they let go of at the very shitty jokes you have managed to come up with are what help you learn eventually. The right people will wait for you to find yourself. And every time you forget, they will be there to help you remember, because sometimes they know you better than you know yourself.
Act II—the hair.
P had a sick coat. A coat that he tended to with pride. It was unruly at first. Hard to look at. Awkwardly shaped and insufficiently maintained.
But with time, it became something truly extraordinary. Or so he keeps telling himself.
My hair has changed more than me through the years. I’ve looked like a tennis ball; I’ve looked like Willy Wonka. I’ve looked like Dora the Explorer, and I’ve (not my words) looked like Eren Yeager. I’ve looked like Jesus Christ, and I’ve looked like a gay samurai.
But regardless, what matters are those little moments when the women in your life tell you they want your hair, and you realize you have inadvertently achieved something of value. Something that makes the sis guards stop your friends and ask them why you didn’t do entry in your own hall. Something that makes dudes mistakenly check you out for a wee minute in the gym and then get angry at themselves when you turn around. Something that makes barbers refuse to cut your hair because they want you to realize its full potential (and then donate it to cancer, as one suggested).
Its not always been this long, though. I came to this college with short hair, like everyone else. Very short, in fact. The kinda hair that bristles when you run your hand through it.
But what was a skinny kid with meh hair and a geeky appearance to do when he comes to a university and decides he wants to better himself. The gym was too much work. The face was too expensive to touch. Clothes required shopping and taste. All you really had was the hair.
Now, long hair is not a look I’ve ever frowned upon. Being relatively fond of rock and metal, the look always had its appeal, but I never thought I’d be one to adopt it.
A wolf cut gone wrong is what started this all.
The hair was never meant to be this. But it is what it is now.
I’ve pondered cutting it off many a time. It’s not a look I’m fond of all the time, either. But having been the kind of kid that gets lost in a crowd, whom you wouldn’t really look at twice, all my life, the hair makes me stand out. Very rarely do I meet someone who does not remember me.
It’s a welcome change.
I’d rather know I’ve left a mark, even at the risk of turning some people off.
I suppose that says a lot about me.
I think many people in college have their own “hair”: a new hobby you may have picked up, a skill you acquired, or a personality trait you adopted. Anything you changed about yourself, until it was more you than the rest of you. An identity trait that you hold onto tightly because you doubt what you’d be to yourself and to people without it.
Reader, I have this very stupid saying that I made up and tell people a lot.
“You do because you are; you are not because you do.”
You can always cut your hair. It’s not what makes you you. You are what made the hair. And be sure people will know that. And you will keep making that splash you wanted to make.
P.s. Also, headbanging at parties is always fun.
I will probably donate my hair at some point; it’s only a matter of time. DM me, and I’ll give you a good rate.
Act III – Campus <3
Before he knew it, P was somebody people knew. He had carved out a piece of this new land for himself. He had found people he could call his own and places he felt he belonged to.
Before he knew it, the stories he had to tell were no longer stories from the rock; they were stories from the Everglades.
Before he knew it, this was home.
During my second year of college, I went to the Inter-IIT Cult Meet 6.0. On the train ride there, we had the remarkable idea to prank the IITBHU fashion team (shout-out to Vidit Parmar, Abhigyan Das, and the man of the hour, Abhishek Sahu).
Posing as JEE aspirants on a boys’ trip to Gaya Junction (don’t ask), we began to shower them with awe and appraisal, seeking advice for the upcoming JEE mains exam, which they revealed to us was in less than a month’s time. Nevertheless, we managed to avert suspicion until Abhishek Sahu decided to tease a fourth-year about his placements, rampwalk down the corridor, fling off the towel he had around him, and reveal his IITK film club hoodie. He then taunted them for being from a “lower IIT” and ran down the corridor, while the rest of us stood there trying to figure out how to get out of here without escalating matters further.
Soon, they were walking down the length of the train, searching for us and attempting to intimidate us into giving up Abhishek, as we sought asylum amongst the dance team.
Within minutes, however, we saw 5 coaches of IITK folks swarm down the train until the IITBHU fashion team was pushed back towards the train bathroom, with our then gensec at the front looking into the camera they had pulled out saying, “ham bas baat karne aaye hai”—as some lovely folks from IITK held up hockey sticks in the background.
On a more serious note, there have been three campus-wide protests during my time here. In all, I saw people band together as one. Some just for the sake of it, some out of concern, and some out of selfishness, but all showing up for another.
This campus bolsters communal bonds with collective purpose in a way I have never seen before and imagine I never will.
Friendships are born through circumstance. Through turmoil that you’re thrown into together. Collective trauma. Group enjoyment. Common hatred. And the opportunity to band together for more than yourself.
Beyond anything else, this campus provides the most unique blend of elements that form, in a very short time span, the most meaningful adult friendships one could hope to build.
The campus infrastructure is such that every week there is an opportunity to achieve, and where there is an opportunity to achieve, there is an opportunity to fail and seek support, to win and celebrate, or to sit back and bitch.
Every month, there are new people met, each going through dynamically different social and emotional changes in an academically charged and competitive environment – a volatile cocktail that explodes relationships just as the fragments of broken ones shower others with strength.
College is the most ambitious social experiment you will ever participate in, the reward being the truest and most finely filtered friends you could hope to find.
I am leaving this college with 0 burnt bridges. I do not know if that is a good or a bad thing. But at least I know that through all the ups and downs, there is no one I haven’t spent a meaningful moment with whom I wouldn’t pick up the phone for and who wouldn’t do the same for me.
Act IV – Dreams and regrets
P dreamt large, and P believed he was meant for greatness. He, however, was far from perfect.
You see, back where he came from, he never had enough to fear loss. A decision made in haste, or an opportunity lost, meant little more than lost time and effort and, worst of all, a bruised ego. But now decisions had weight. He suddenly had things to lose.
P was a child no longer. And overthinker that he was, every time he lost, his thoughts ate him up alive.
I came to college with a single dream in mind. To eventually do a master’s in one of the world’s best universities. That dream faltered, developed nuance, got questioned time and time again, and changed in form.
But at the end of college, I still had broadly the same dream. Yeah, I wanted to do a PhD now instead, a dream I unfortunately fell short on (at least at the moment), but it’s something remarkable to know that if first year you saw where you were now, he’d have tears in his eyes.
That’s why getting that offer of admission meant a lot to me.
It is hard to put into context how much that corrected in my head, but I will try to do so regardless.
During my intern season, I chose to have an academic preference. I was convinced all of this was just a backup, and I really did not care what sort of an internship I landed this season, and I did not conduct much research into what sort of pay or perks most companies offered.
I had a choice between two companies, a choice which to most would have been obvious. But through a combination of the wrong set of people and advice to receive in those crucial moments, a lack of awareness, absolutely terrible management, a lack of sleep, and a ton of last-minute overthinking from my end, I ended up picking a choice that, to me, made absolute sense until several months later.
But as the political climate of the West changed and the possibility of getting a good grad offer seemed to dwindle, I came to regret giving up what would have been a very cushy couple of years before I tried again. This then led to months of replaying that moment and wishing things were different.
So when, after multiple rejections, I saw that acceptance from ETH Zurich, it wiped away months of regret and gave me, after a long time, true and genuine excitement.
My last couple of months at IITK were not a smooth sailing. My little group of friends and I, as individuals, went through a lot. But through it all, it was a hope and a sense of ambition that had rekindled after long, and my very patient, absolutely brutal and yet fiercely loyal group of friends that make me look back on this last year with nothing but a smile on my face and a tear in my eye.
Dear reader, it is not easy to walk down one road and wonder what life would have been like on the other. But there is no such thing as a life spent without regrets. A “what-if” is inevitable if you ever find yourself at a meaningful crossroads. And the ability to be grateful that you even had the opportunity to stand at that fork and make a decision is something that is acquired with great effort – an effort I still make to this day.
Act V – A community
P had always been a part of a family. But this time things were a little different. This time it was a family that really had no worldly force, no blood ties pulling them together. Anyone could leave. Anytime they wanted. And yet they stayed.
P found a new family. Many new families. Families that came to be because it’s members chose each other.
When I was a secretary, Mutasim summoned us all to the OAT with a master plan. In hushed whispers and glances of shared excitement, a plot was hatched.
Shortly later, Anubhav came running, clearly tensed and angry, eyes darting, looking for Mutasim. His rage and worry were palpable and quite understandable.
What Debsoc coordinator wouldn’t be scared? If he were told that various problematic substances had been discovered in the Litsoc room after the Debsoc post-PD party, and that the coordinators had been summoned for questioning.
Anubhav’s wide eyes widened further, but his worry melted into relief and joy when he noticed not a lonely, worried Mutasim, but all of Debsoc IITK, standing before the chocolate room.
“Happy Birthday!” We all shouted, embracing Anubhav and rubbing his face with cake, as Kunaal, Mutasim, and Sampada looked upon the crowd, broad smiles on their faces.
It was just a little moment, nothing extraordinary, but as I looked around me, I realized that I wasn’t in this place just to debate, or organize events, or become a coordinator. I was here for the people. I was here for the friends this place gave me and for the opportunity to give back to the place that made me so much more. I was here for my community, a family away from home.
It was this same feeling of kinship I felt when I was at THC, a ragtag team of hip-hop enthusiasts banded together by two of the most passionate seniors I have ever met in college—Vijay Bharadwaj and Shivang Jaiswal. They created something that I could only have ever wished to experience in college. To be able to put out a song for an event that our university hosted with such pride, to make music among people with so much passion it inspired mine, and to build memories with friends through it all was a privilege I am extremely grateful to have been given. And none of it would have been possible without community.
Now you might ask me, “What is community?”
Well, reader, that is a question that I have answered formally twice in my DebSoc tenure, asked of others a lot more times, and pondered myself for a countless moments. It is a question I still don’t fully have the answer to. However, I have graduated and will not spend more time pondering the abstract; this question is for the 25s and 26s to think about now. Can’t have them copying this AWL to cheese their interviews, after all, can I?
Community is not really complicated to understand, though. It is something taken for granted until it falls apart, and it is what holds any body together.
It is the warm fuzziness that fills my heart when I look upon my juniors and batchmates drinking shakes at Mama Mio, arguing about the debate that just took place, and trying their level best to stop the conversation from digressing into 10 competing, equally degenerate topics.
It’s the feeling of pride I get when I am in a cypher, during Antaragni or at the OAT, rapping my ass off without a care in the world, or on stage during Overdose or orientation.
It is the ambition I felt looking at the CGMs burst forth with energy and enthusiasm for the ideas they brought forth to a Vox meeting.
It is the joy I felt when Ishi and Nandini finally got the ELS site up and running and put up my proudest work, “Prisoners of Fate,” on it.
It is in support given and taken, moments wasted in unison, and laughter shared.
It is in shared tears and celebration.
It is in friendships born and continued.
It is the very soul that made Debsoc home, the collective ambition that helped THC survive and thrive, the curiosity that brought people to ELS, and the passion that made Vox do what it does.
That, dear reader, is community. And if you are a junior of mine, be sure these same words uttered will still get you reduced to tears in any upcoming interview you give at Debsoc, so good luck.
Act VI—love
I wonder what it means to love
Does it feel like a calming breeze?
Does it feel like the cool wind that blows
When the summer ups and leaves
Does it look like the break of dawn
Peeking through the curtain night
Painting winding streaks of orange
On a sheet of sunshine bright
Does it sound like the patter of raindrops
Falling out a gloomy sky
Or does it sound like the final breath
of life well-lived’s last sigh
I often wonder what it means to love
To hold close as can be
To hold tight and hold dear
Till they’re a part of me
I wonder what it means
To rip apart your soul
And give it in an open palm
And yet feel so whole
To be loved is a gift or a curse
Or a gamble all the same
But to love and lose or lose on love
Rejoice if love has known your name
No, reader, you will not get gossip about me in this chapter. This isn’t about that kind of love, though it very well could be.
It’s an honor to be loved by a love earned. To have people choose to be with you and near you.
In a campus this large, whether it’s by chance, by careful determinism, or just sheer desperation, there are people who take time out of their lives to come see you. To ask you about yourself and to give the smallest of shits about you. That is love earned.
It is important to remind yourself that one of your life’s greatest achievements is the people you’ve managed to keep in it. This thought has mammothed as I go through these final stages. I’m not someone who holds on very tightly to the people in my life. People drift in and out all the time, and I try not to pay mind. But to the few who chose to stick around, even if it was for a leg of the journey and not the whole way – know I felt seen. I saw you. And the time we have spent has meant something.
To my friends at Viral Hate Club and the clubs I have been in, to bhakbsdk, to bepagaarz. To the solo friendships I happened to form, to friendships that broke and reformed, and most importantly, to the guys who made college feel like college—Gupil, Zehaan, Ritesh, Abhigyan, Prabhu, Devansh (x2), Suneet, Pranav, Maharaajan, Animesh, Manasvi and Pranshu – y’all are the reason I started calling home home.
Act VII – A goodbye
And just as he came. One day he left. And the actions of today became the memories of tomorrow.
Someone leaves.
One cries because they miss the little things they can no longer do with them.
The other cries because they know they are not very close and may possibly never see them again.
And the onlookers cry seeing tears being shed, knowing them who is leaving was loved.
I’m not an easy man to make cry. I grow numb when things get heavy. I feel by overthinking. And I release through poetry and thought. I left on the last possible day, and I saw almost everybody leave. My last moment on campus was in shared silence and mutual encouragement between me, Abhigyan Das, Prabhu Safi, and my family, who waited in the car. As such, my last few days in college were not sad. They were heavy. They were final. And they were romanticized in the best possible way. Each goodbye was not a bond broken but a celebration
of all that was built on this campus. It was souls that intertwined, only grazingly or holding tight, rising above what it meant within the confines of a campus.
Reader, if you know me, you are very familiar with my god complex. The legend of “The V.” A falsehood of confidence that has gotten me through many a tough spot in college. An obsession with myself that has driven my friends crazy to no end. In fact, if you are a member of the WhatsApp group titled “Fanbase of the V” (shoutout the prophet, Apoorv Tandon), then congratulations, you were one of the first to witness my narcissism in full bloom. Yeah, and for those who care, I am the fucker friend V.
And so it is with no regrets whatsoever that I am glad I left college with the veil firmly off.
Yeah, fuck Kanye West, but he did give me the opportunity to leave college as I came.
Humble. With not an ounce of grandeur, pomp or event. With the family I was given and the family I made.
I got to see all my friends leave, and I got to feel the weight their absence left on me.
I got to tread the bones of a barren campus and realize the life that the people breathe into it.
IITK is a fallen corpse without us in it. And even as the Y22 batch left, I felt a piece of its soul exit and leave into the world, surely to be replaced by another. I am glad I was able to mourn you fully.
I will miss you, IITK. And I will miss making you you as you made me me.
Thank you for the opportunities you gave me, the people you helped me meet, the shitstorms you have put me through, and the pride and confidence you helped me build.
Thank you for the stories you gave me to tell, the character you helped me shape, the decisions you gave me to make and the places you showed me.
Thank you for tolerating my presence and building me into so much more than I was.
And thank you for taking it easy on me.
EPILOGUE
When I came to college, I thought it would fix everything wrong about me. Through trials and tribulations I thought I would come out strong, independent, organized and completely put-together – well-equipped to take on the world. Dear reader, in humility I know I have a long way to go.
Old habits die hard, patterns repeat, we seek the familiar and it is hard to let go of what we used to be.
And the idea that you lived life so imperfectly that you now desire change is undesirable.
To all the people I hurt in imperfection, intentionally or inadvertently, I apologize from the depths of my heart. And I hope you will remember me as fondly as I will remember you.
College did not fix me but it shone a light on what’s wrong. These four years have been a scathing analysis of every place I shine at, all the things I should be proud of and all the things I fall so terribly short at.
Perhaps that awareness is the greatest thing college could give you. The rest is upto you. Nothing can change you, that is on you and you alone.
But an awareness realized in good time, and understood, is a gift.
I leave this place with a future to look forward to, with people that I will know and love for life and with an awareness that I could have only hoped to achieve.
And that is what I take with me, as I leave.
Written by: Aditya V
Edited by: Saurya Singh, Dishita Bajaj
