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In the 23rd edition of As We Leave 2024, Sanika Gumaste, a Y20 student in the Department of Electrical Engineering, reflects on her transformative journey at IIT Kanpur. Her narrative captures the essence of college life as a second home, filled with laughter, challenges, and unforgettable bonds.
Disclaimer:- The views presented below are the author’s own and are not in any manner representative of the views of Vox Populi as a body or IIT Kanpur in general. This is an informal account of the author’s experiences at IIT-K.
I write this as I hop on the flight back home. After many failed (and desperate) attempts to write my AWL, I realised I simply couldn’t put my emotions into words on campus. I guess I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to this place. This place. This place that had become my new home. As I took off, I remembered the words of comfort I offered to a friend earlier today. “Are tension mat le, ghar hi to jaana hai” – “Ghar jaana nahi hai, ghar chhodke jaaraha hu”. Perhaps this is my last desperate attempt to hold on to my campus memories.
I salute those who had the strength to endure these goodbyes. I salute those who showed their emotions and shed their tears. As for me- I will do that tonight. When I reach home.
After 13 days of excruciating goodbyes, teary-eyed faces, and forced smiles for that last photo with that friend, I am simply happy I survived these final days on campus. I thought people were exaggerating when they said that college feels like a second home. I remember my mother consoling my anxious self when I left my ‘home’ for the first time about three years ago- “Aaj ghar chhodne ki vajah se ro rahi ho, kal ghar aane ki vajah se ro padogi”. Apt.
To begin with, my memory sucks. I really, really wish I had written a diary. So, if at all I plan to impart any wisdom in this AWL- write a diary. You never know when you’ll need it. Even if you don’t, well, it’s a good habit (so my father says).
A few days ago, as I was packing up my home, I found a few scribbled pages of an attempt at diary writing from my first year. I couldn’t even realise how much my life had changed in these last four years. The naivety, the expectations, the confidence. All of it. I can’t believe I actually made notes for PE101 and orientation sessions.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t make this a cliche, but I came to Kanpur as a fragile, emotional and anxious kid, and I leave a strong, emotional and anxious adult. (Yep, still anxious, still emotional. But not fragile, and definitely not a kid.)
How does one exactly structure an AWL? What do I write about? The first time I set foot on campus? Or the last time I leave campus as a college kid. Do I write about the clubs I joined? Or the acads that I screwed up? The first time I went to CCD. The last time I went to CCD. Checking my bank balance every time I went to CCD. Checking my attendance percentage to decide if I had to go out to a lecture in the scorching heat. My roommate’s loud alarm that never shut off on time. Those heart-healing conversations on the platform in front of L20. If only I could carry that place with me wherever I go.
The first time I met my friends? The last time I met my friends. God, I really hope I don’t break down on this flight.
I wish you were tiny. I would’ve carried each and every one of you in my pocket.
My life in Kanpur has been a roller coaster, to say the least. I think everyone’s life in Kanpur has been a roller coaster. Everyone, including me, came to IIT with wildly different expectations. Trust me, things turn out more interesting (if not better) than you expect them to be! A Y17 senior friend of mine suggested I join Vox just because I was fluent in English. It ended up being my core on campus. Who knows what fate has in store for us?
One thing Vox has taught me- is that writing is hard. It has to come from within. Writing is an art. Writing an AWL is having a huge white canvas with 150 shades of paint by your side and trying to paint a portrait that art studios would label as “life”.
I thought writing about myself would be easy, but hey, who am I kidding. I had almost decided not to write one. The very thought of having to recollect all my favourite memories and bid them goodbye, I couldn’t even bear the thought. And who needs another cliche, As We Leave? The “I came to Kanpur as a child, and I leave an adult”? And how do I cover four years of my life in an article? It seems impossible to collect all those memories, to remember all those experiences, and jot them down for someone else to relive. No way anyone can do justice to that. No way I could write a perfect AWL.
But I realised that for the last four years, I have been convincing numerous seniors to write their AWL because it is their journey, their life, their story to tell. It didn’t matter if it was cliche. It was still their story. And thus, to dodge the hypocrisy, this is my final attempt at writing one. I hope that if not wise and relatable, you find it enjoyable. Tighten your seat belts!
Someone asked me about my favourite memory of this institute a few days ago. I laughed it off. How can anyone have just one? To quote my amma- ” Life consists of the little moments strung together.”. Perhaps it’s the first time I got molten butter in the mess after a crazy winter. Or the shallow beams of sunshine when everyone is out on the lawns, some studying, some chatting, some simply lying down, playing with the grass. I remember the first day I came back to campus. For context, I ran away home (literally) after ten days because of a funny friend named Omnicron. Everyone cursed the virus. I was secretly happy. IIT Kanpur was nothing like I imagined it to be. The shared washrooms, the people from diverse backgrounds, the mess food with the stupid frozen butter. Winters were my favourite, but this? This wasn’t winter. This was an exile in a huge refrigerator. I know. Sounds dramatic. But it was all a lot to take in. Come February, I came here again. “One day at a time,” I told myself. “You’ll get through this soon.” And I really did. I really did get through it soon. When I came back to campus that day, I was happy to meet my friends again. A little sad to leave the comfort of home. “How many days will I last this time?” I asked myself. Two days later, a couple of my friends and I sat on the lawn in Hall 2. Nothing wild- just studying. And I’m not sure why, but all of a sudden, it felt like home. I felt comfortable. For the first time, it felt like I could breathe without worrying if I would be nauseous with worry. I think what I realised that day was- it’s not the place, it’s the people who turn this place into home.
…And I’m leaving those people now.
Home.
A few of you who read this might know that I belong to a body called Vox. Yes, I belong. Everyone who knows me knows that Vox is my soulmate. It is perhaps the only thing that I gave my everything to. Vox taught me how insignificant we are in this system. Not just me but everyone. IIT is much more than students and faculty. And realising that was a humbling experience, to say the least. Yes. We are a part of it. But so are the mess workers. The hall sanitation workers. The staff. The dhobis. The shop workers. The cleaners. And that’s not even the entire list. Something I realised is that a lot of us undergraduates forget that we are not the centre of the institute. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying we are arrogant. We’re ignorant. I am more than grateful to Vox for making me realise that.
Many people hate Vox. I can really understand why. We’re not perfect at journalism and additionally, journalism is not everyone’s cup of tea. In a way, I think this is the essence of how I became confident. You see, the fragile kid was terrible at saying no to people. She was terrible at fighting and confronting, at making her voice heard. The day I became a chief editor, my ex-chief editors made it a point to tell me that I didn’t have a spine, and I am so grateful for that. If you’re reading this, thank you. Because that was the day I learned the importance of voicing an opinion and fighting for it. I think that that is what made me a non-fragile, still emotional, non-kid.
My literary family.
Bidding goodbye to this place was tough. Every walk I have taken in these final days on campus reminds me of so much that has happened here. Those short runs to the SL canteen. Those long walks with headphones on, watching life go by. The days my friends whopped me at badminton. That day, I hopped on the metro for the first time to try the kachori at Rawatpur. Peddling crazy fast to a class because my life(0.2% of a course) depended on it. The night outs before an endsem, where we filled our brains with the equations and theories at the expense of our common senses. Or the idli and poha outside Old Shop afterwards that felt like a treat.
Side note – and I know you’re going to hate me for this – try adding a little sambhar to the poha. And thank me later.
The days when we were so tired of mess food that we decided to cook our own food. Maggi, pasta, soups, coffee, and those iron-press grilled sandwiches. And the fight thereafter on who would clean the kettles. Cleaning my room spotlessly only to find it went back to the same state in 3 days. Scrolling through instagram with your friends instead of scrolling through it alone.
The happiness you feel after buying 100/- books in fest stalls. Or the relief after having juice from the hall 4 stalls on scorching days. Or the days when the Hall 4 juice stalls were in front of Hall 3. Those little trips to E-shop to buy random things just for the sake of it. The opening of the Amul shop and the wave of elation after having two scoops of coffee ice cream. The bargaining with the electric appliances shop uncle before buying a heater.
Setting up your room for the first time. The empty campus in the midsemester breaks. The nights when you vibed on dim lights and music for hours. The numerous trips to mama mio chaupaty to eat honey chilli potato, crispy corn and masala dosa. Seeing the corner restaurant beside E shop change its name ever so often. Fine Dine’s white sauce pasta, Hall 4’s coffee with ice cream, Hall 1’s boondi raita and Hall 6’s samosas.
Making new friends. Realising my North Indian friends think Maharashtrians are South Indians. Telling my friends that I never had Rajma Chaval and seeing the looks of shock on their faces. Having Rajma Chaval for the first time. It was nice.
The walks in the connector balcony in hall 6 that calmed me down. The insane political debates I had with my friends. Interacting with people from different backgrounds, from different families and different cultures. This is one of the most underrated gifts this institute has given me.
Those friends who cried with you and those who laughed with you. Some betrayals, some heartbreaks, but the best of people to get through these times. It’s surprising how fast life changes. Even more surprising is how fast we adapt ourselves to this life.
Ah. So many memories. So many lessons. And I’m already one and a half hours into the flight. One more to go.
As I look back and think of all the happy moments on campus, I realise that in almost all these experiences with my friends, there was someone reluctant to join in. Be it Suraj or Lucknow, there was always someone (often me) who needed to be convinced to step out of the room and do something. I am so glad that my friends were there to knock sense into me every time I said no to a plan because those plans are some of the core memories that I will treasure forever. I guess it’s important to remember that with the passing years, it’s on us to make memories here.
Life doesn’t just happen. You have to make it happen.
Have fun. Go out. Fall down and get back up. Fall ill and get better. You can spend the day sleeping in your room, or you can spend the day doing something. Anything, really. It’s on you. If you prefer sleeping- go ahead. My advice – don’t.
Not everything is a lesson, though, Ryan. Sometimes, life just happens. Sometimes, you just fail.
I was so immersed in clubs and cells and activities that come the final semester, where I only had one responsibility, and that too the juniors were more than happy to handle, I felt lost. I really did feel lost. What do I do with my time? Do I laze around because it’s the final semester? Or do I find another hustle? It took me a long time to realise that this thing that we keep hearing, the work-life balance, is actually important. As important as college academics are, as important as these clubs and cells are, finding yourself amidst this chaos of PoRs and grades is really important. It is very easy to get lost here. Most of us are school-district-state toppers. Coming here to find out that there are people better than you? More accomplished than you? More skilful than you? Tough. Really tough to digest. It can kick you, and it can kick you hard. Trust me, the minute you pick yourself up after being kicked in the shins- you make yourself a better person. I know it sounds preachy. But no matter what happens. Pick yourself up. The confidence it gives you is exhilarating.
My first few days on campus were terrible. I was convinced that I would have to drop out. This unknown place with unknown people. For the first ten days, I rarely ate, I barely slept. My jaw was locked shut, fearing one wave of nausea after another. Studying my ass off for 18 years just to realise that I couldn’t cope with the slightest change in my life? I just lay in my room for most of the time, contemplating if this was the end of everything. I didn’t get any work done. And it was piling up at an insane speed. I remember that day when I lay down contemplating if this was what my life was going to look like, 16 hours of laying down just to muster enough energy for the rest of the 8 hours? And the next day, I went home.
It was COVID, so no one really bothered to ask much about it. It took me a few days to realise what I was giving up on. Then, one fine morning, just like that, I decided I was not going to give up. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?
The best thing about being at rock bottom is that there is no way out but up.
It’s been a crazy journey since then. That journey from hating every minute of your life- to actually loving your life. No lecture can teach me what that part of my life did. We talk a lot about mental health, but they’re all just empty words. The real world is brutal. People will and do snipe at you when you’re at your weakest. You can choose to stay back and stay safe, or you can choose to jump right into the battle, fall on your knees, stumble, break a few bones, and then stand up. Trust me, nothing can give you that confidence, irrespective of whether you are able to stand up or not.
My pillars in time of need. The best first friends I could ever ask for.
Oh hey, we’re descending! Damn the turbulence. I guess now it’s really starting to hit that I’m going away from home. “Home” home. Forever. No more meetings at CCD. No more endsems! No more nightouts before the endsem. No more summer breaks. That one’s gonna hurt a bit. Who knows what we will have in the future? Who knows if we like the 9-5. If we like the routine. The discipline? Ah. Who knows. I guess we’ll find out.
I am going to miss this place. I am going to miss these people. I am going to miss randomly and unapologetically barging into my friends’ rooms, waking everyone up 5 minutes before the mess closes. I am going to miss doing shady stuff without getting judgmental looks. I’m going to miss telling lame jokes, getting exasperated looks, explaining the jokes, and getting even more exasperated expressions. I’m going to miss going to clubs and even more so- getting ready together before going to clubs, mixing and matching outfits and winging each others’ eyeliners.
My girl gang.
These last four years, my entire life has revolved around some people who are now going to be miles apart. I know we’ll stay in touch. We’ll meet, we’ll talk, we’ll laugh, and we’ll remember how we used to skiddle-skedaddle around. But that will be it. They will go their way, and I will go mine. Perhaps that is the reality of life.
They say it only takes a wave to separate two logs in a river. I hope I can latch on to my logs for just some time longer. Because even though I met them less than half a decade ago, they’re MY logs. And I am not ready to lose them yet.
My logs.
A heartfelt homage to Sanika Gumaste, our beloved former Chief Editor at Vox Populi. Your impactful tenure at Vox, marked by dedication and guidance, has left a lasting impact on us all. The memories we’ve created together and the lessons we’ve learned have shaped us profoundly. Your influence extends beyond words, filling our hearts with gratitude and inspiration. As you move forward, we wish you endless joy, success, and vibrant adventures. Thank you for being our guiding light and leaving a legacy we’ll always cherish.
With all our love and best wishes,
Team Vox Populi
Written by: Sanika Gumaste
Edited by: Vidhi Chordia, Vedanshi Aggarwal
Designed by: Sanyam Shivhare
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