End of term? Woaah. I still remember the cloudy evening of Sept'13 when excitement was coursing through every cell of my body, where my new crisp uniform was pressed twice and bag ready with new registers and smell of new books and new pens with polished shoes, with anticipation of the dawn of new morning, new life. And when the day arrived I found myself sitting at corner seat of front row amongst new people, trying hard to grasp the reality that I'm a college student, now. But as time flew by, I am sitting at the same place amongst those people who were strangers for me, once, trying hard to grasp the reality,again, that I'm no more a college student, now. Ironic, Isn't it?
By what I've heard of this place, it turned out to be something different. That eventful day of Sept 2'13, I felt like an astronaut ready to land on a mysterious land of some unknown star, because that was case with me, exactly. This college is something out of this earth. Totally different than what a college sounds like, in books and reality, it gave me moments to remember till my last breathe, memories to cherish till my memory allows, friends to hold on to till I reach my grave, teachers to stay grateful till the Doom's day and even after that.
Amidst the monotonous routine of work, mental stress, studies load, tough competition and whines of not getting enough time to rest, I learnt so much in life, about life.
From teachers to class mates to friends to Ayyaa Jee to random students to Canteen walay uncle to Photocopier to Van walay Uncle to everyone I get to know there, I won't be able to forget those any of them. For all the things they did for us, for all the love they showered on us, for all the care the showed through their strict attitude, for all the advices the lovingly gave, for all the warnings they clearly stated, and for the faith they have in us.
But in all this affection, I can't understand why I found myself distancing from myself, becoming a silent spectator of class activities and lousy students providing entertainment and giving a chance to laughter once in a while from the student who used to be a leading part of crazy acts, the hesitation to ask questions and get my doubts cleared cost me in my exams but still I couldn't brought myself to erase that resistance, and maybe for this reason my teacher would never remember a quiet( read: dumb) student of theirs, but I would never bring myself to forget those mentors, the literature teachers, who nourishes the soul and feeds the brain, at this crucial age, realizing the role they play in lives of young generation for the rest of kids lives is bigger than the science ones,who make the undigestable formulae and yucky theories easy to memorize till exams.
In order to continue the topic, the teachers went irrationally illogical sometimes, but that's okay, I guess. Because it was us, the reason behind that, but it became impossible at few times to keep that respect intact, and I hate myself for this. Lulz.
I'm proud to say I study in a college where canteen is smaller than a store room, where eating during lectures was an adventure, where we never got the chance to spend time library and read a book or two, where laboratory so small that it looks like an enlarged image of solid structure in which atoms are packed tightly,where a parking lot which was more like a ground to us, a college where we never bunked, and most importantly, I'll always stay proud of the fact that how the teachers used to stay at gate for assurance of our safety at bell times. I'm proud to say I'm a Punjabian. Soon to be an ex.
Wait. Is it okay to shed tears for a place you were just a part of, for two years. How can time pass by this quickly, with a gush of wind snatching this confused yet beautiful period of the togetherness. Of happiness. Of growing age.
With the thudding heart,the gleaming eyes, the beaming lips and the slightly shivering body, I confess, I'll miss this place. More than I ever imagined. Moreover, I can never thank God for this blessing.
P.S: rawayat ko barqarar rakhtay hoi, I don't know what I typed. But I need to do it. Leaving college is as difficult as leaving school. Time doesn't matter. Memories does. Okay, sorry. I started with rants again.
By what I've heard of this place, it turned out to be something different. That eventful day of Sept 2'13, I felt like an astronaut ready to land on a mysterious land of some unknown star, because that was case with me, exactly. This college is something out of this earth. Totally different than what a college sounds like, in books and reality, it gave me moments to remember till my last breathe, memories to cherish till my memory allows, friends to hold on to till I reach my grave, teachers to stay grateful till the Doom's day and even after that.
Amidst the monotonous routine of work, mental stress, studies load, tough competition and whines of not getting enough time to rest, I learnt so much in life, about life.
From teachers to class mates to friends to Ayyaa Jee to random students to Canteen walay uncle to Photocopier to Van walay Uncle to everyone I get to know there, I won't be able to forget those any of them. For all the things they did for us, for all the love they showered on us, for all the care the showed through their strict attitude, for all the advices the lovingly gave, for all the warnings they clearly stated, and for the faith they have in us.
But in all this affection, I can't understand why I found myself distancing from myself, becoming a silent spectator of class activities and lousy students providing entertainment and giving a chance to laughter once in a while from the student who used to be a leading part of crazy acts, the hesitation to ask questions and get my doubts cleared cost me in my exams but still I couldn't brought myself to erase that resistance, and maybe for this reason my teacher would never remember a quiet( read: dumb) student of theirs, but I would never bring myself to forget those mentors, the literature teachers, who nourishes the soul and feeds the brain, at this crucial age, realizing the role they play in lives of young generation for the rest of kids lives is bigger than the science ones,who make the undigestable formulae and yucky theories easy to memorize till exams.
In order to continue the topic, the teachers went irrationally illogical sometimes, but that's okay, I guess. Because it was us, the reason behind that, but it became impossible at few times to keep that respect intact, and I hate myself for this. Lulz.
I'm proud to say I study in a college where canteen is smaller than a store room, where eating during lectures was an adventure, where we never got the chance to spend time library and read a book or two, where laboratory so small that it looks like an enlarged image of solid structure in which atoms are packed tightly,where a parking lot which was more like a ground to us, a college where we never bunked, and most importantly, I'll always stay proud of the fact that how the teachers used to stay at gate for assurance of our safety at bell times. I'm proud to say I'm a Punjabian. Soon to be an ex.
Wait. Is it okay to shed tears for a place you were just a part of, for two years. How can time pass by this quickly, with a gush of wind snatching this confused yet beautiful period of the togetherness. Of happiness. Of growing age.
With the thudding heart,the gleaming eyes, the beaming lips and the slightly shivering body, I confess, I'll miss this place. More than I ever imagined. Moreover, I can never thank God for this blessing.
P.S: rawayat ko barqarar rakhtay hoi, I don't know what I typed. But I need to do it. Leaving college is as difficult as leaving school. Time doesn't matter. Memories does. Okay, sorry. I started with rants again.
