The first day was bewildering, with the desire to interact warring sharply with my natural reticence. Then classes started, and all worries became inconsequential in the face of something far larger - survival.
Pedagogy was so participative, that I felt initial reservations melting away in my excitement to contribute. With each new class, I made acquaintances from a varied range of backgrounds and began enjoying the experience immensely. Academic rigour hit like an all-engulfing tidal wave, sweeping us into an unending whirlpool of classwork, quizzes, assignments, projects and exams. The sheer volume of work left us petrified.
But the scene wasn’t even complete yet. Without those that would, if hearsay were to be believed, force us into various acts of humiliation, dump onto us an undue portion of their work, and generally make our lives a living hell. The seniors arrived, and how.
It took us a while to understand that they would indeed shape our experience here – albeit in a manner starkly different from what we’d dreaded. From Bodhi’s wisdom to Bishu Da’s irreplaceability, they were instrumental in guiding us towards discovering the essence of XL culture. As the armour of invulnerability slipped away, we realised they had been through all this too. More importantly, they had adjusted, survived – thrived. That, more than anything else, gave us the courage to pick ourselves up and get going.
From staying awake for days on end to bonding over assignments submitted at 11:59:59, this month has been a whirlwind of insane ups and downs and roundabouts. For my part, I managed today to have one whole proper meal, did not inadvertently fall asleep in unfortunate settings, and hit a fewer number of people bicycling than any other day before. I also managed to hope a little more, live a little more, fall a little more in love with this place. Good progress, I would say.
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