It’s the end of days for me and around 399 more like me.
We shall graduate from IIM Ahmedabad (India’s elitist b-school) in a fortnight - March 19th to be precise. Studies over, projects completed, lessons learnt and jobs secured. From today till the 19th there is nothing too urgent to do, nothing too scary to worry and nothing too exciting to ponder.
Perhaps then, it’s the right time to be nostalgic. And so I sit on the sun-cooked grass below the Neem’s shade, with a cup of tea, a mobile phone and a pair of eyes forced to squint - partly due to the glare of the sun but mostly due to the need to remember what a journey these two years have been.
Late night group studies, early morning revisions, all-day classes and the ever so important evening siestas. We did them all, every day, until the end of the first year. In retrospect, it was fun but cruel. The second year had lesser, but more interesting classes. It also had less friendly but more effective group studies. In retrospect, it was peaceful yet rewarding. But we can’t separate the years, we can't take one and leave the other. They come as a package. For people like me, with an unconventional academic path, they came as a surprise package.
And so I lived - failing, enduring, working and succeeding - even if barely. I haven’t been the best nor even been at my best. And that’s precisely the point.
I have been lucky to have this opportunity and lead this IIMA life. And no amount of work nor any paucity of time can stop me from being able to see, feel and think of the lesser fortunate around me. The dorm cleaners, the security guards, the delivery boys and the auto drivers - they work hard and honestly but without entertaining too happy a thought for themselves. Perhaps they believe its pointless, hence painful and possibly foolish too, to dream - or atleast to believe that their dreams can come true. They can’t be faulted. For, they have never had an opportunity (such as mine) to indulge in their interests, triple their incomes, build new goals, provide infinitely better for their families and so on. And probably, they never will have this opportunity - never, ever, ever.
This chokes me, as it dawns that my problems then are just first world - merely aspirational in nature. While theirs are real, third world - more existential in nature. So no matter how hard I try to remember my struggles and my efforts, I am unable to feel sorry or proud or anything in between for these struggles and efforts of mine.
Right now then, all I can think of is - the How? How lucky am I to have come so far? How far ahead can I still go? And, most importantly, how much do I need to do for my society? Particularly for the people who were a part of my journey, for those who never get a chance to do anything like me or the around 399 like me.
Perhaps then, its not a good time for nostalgia after all!
It’s then a time better suited to plan - on How should I be paying my debts back to the society; paying my respects to the people who I leave behind - people who shall never make this journey themselves.