Tomorrow is another time

Two years ago, I moved out of the warm and protective shelter of DPS RK Puram into the churning waters of Delhi University into the breezy and watchful shelter of Lady Shri Ram College.

It hasn’t been much of a fight, to be totally honest.

But third year- final year feels different.

 

Final year is the comfort of living 20 minutes away from everything for the last time. It’s the loss of the security that no matter how late I’m running, there’s an empty bathroom and a packed lunch waiting. That even as I race through the house snatching food off their plates, those two regulars at the breakfast table will shout (an albeit sulky) warning about the rain.

Final year is finally allowing the faces around me to know me, only to have them walk away into their destinies and forget- just like the last time. It is the realization that for someone, you’re just too little, too late- and of being too proud to persist. Final year is it being really too late to try and introduce yourself to the girl you’ve sat next to for the past two years.

Final year is making the most of what and who you have because ‘it’s the last time’. It is committing an endless stream of last time’s and never again’s and agonizing over the ones you missed. It’s the repayment of all debts and the caution of self-sufficiency.

Final year is a mantle of responsibility resting square on my shoulders. Of facing the terrifying reality of being the first one in a queue of many, ready to step as I have stepped. It is compulsorily having my game face on- all the time.

Final year is making decisions I’ve never had to make before, asking questions whose answers I’m afraid to hear, confronting realities about myself. It’s the time of epiphanies that reveal less and resolve lesser, of wild goose chases and last straws, of introspecting, of scrutinizing, of expressing, of qualifying, of so much to do in so little time. Final year is going it alone.

Final year is of having to make a spectacle of myself to impress the Universe because someone’s always watching. 

Final year is the realization that the future is right around the corner.

Final year is here and I wish I wasn’t.

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