Thursday, 18 April 2013

Last class as an undergraduate

Minutes ago, I walked out of my last ever class as an undergraduate. I have dreamt of this moment over and over again these past few years. The moment when it would actually come to an end. I have thought about my exact feelings, what I would wear, what I would think, what I would say, and to whom.

And never in all those mid-day dreams, did I feel the feeling in my tummy right now. The painful, shallow, wide, and weird feeling in my tummy could be called anxiety; about the future and about what's really in store; about my dreams and aspirations; about change and progression. It feels like how it would when you pack your last box and walk out of your house - because you grew out of this one and it is time to move on. It feels like saying good bye to a loved one - one who, you wont be seeing for quite some time. It feels like knowing the street vendor who sells coconuts, shouting across my colony in Chennai, India, has walked his cart across my street and into the next one - one which is a point of no return in his everyday coconut round.

This event, today, marks the beginning of an end. There are many more lined up for the coming days. I would finish my uni, technically one month from today. I would move out of my dorm room, in two weeks from then. I would walk around the campus for the last few times in the coming days. I would buy pathetic yet heartwarming anjappar food from the lovely Annas, who are full of man-vaasam to remind me of home and hospitality, for the last few times. I would probably also feel the naive unassuming attachment to an educational community for the last time.

If my grandmother were to describe the change in me, before and after college, she'd probably use the word - 'shocking'. Yes, that would precisely be the phrase she'd use. Well, I mean ideally, ofcourse - if she knew my entire story before college, my entire story through college, and my entire story after college. I take a look at myself, at the woman in the mirror. And there stares the 17 year old girl from across the beyond. The girl that is no more. I look at her and at myself - one scan from head to toe. A chickenfeatherlike-more-updated hair style from a healthy-traditional-braided one; a head that has churned through knowledge, emotions, and experiences nothing ever that the naive mind was capable of imagining; eyes, that are older and hopefully wiser than the innocent ones in the mirror; the recent development of a willfully pierced nose that carries the stamp of home; a tiny paunch that came from.. well, I don't want to talk about that, moving on..a tiny paunch that adorns my midriff now from the flat belly of a teenager; legs that have walked on a little more than the Madras lands.

Ugh, growing up. The more and more I think about it, it's about the moments you collect. These 4 years have zipped past, changed me, introduced me to people, and taken me to places I didn't even dream of. Another 4, another 10, and if I am blessed another 20 will pass. I am sure I will recollect all those years at every landmark, and reminisce in the glory.

(I am guessing more nostalgic pellets are on the way, seeing the plan me and my friends are making for the last few days of "a phase")

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