On my first day in Pilani, I remember looking at the bare walls of my room and wondering how I would be able to make a home out of them. I’d come in after years of living a privileged life, and the thought of having to share a bathroom with twenty others made me squeamish. What I didn’t know was that soon, I would find joy in greeting my friends with tired eyes and a mouth full of toothpaste. That the wait at the geyser queue would make for many memorable conversations. And that the struggle and subsequent relief of bagging a spot near the common room cooler would feel sweeter than any air-conditioned bedroom ever could.

I found family here, people who celebrated my successes like their own and shared in all my sorrows. People who reprimanded me when I made stupid decisions and encouraged me to do more, to be more. I made unexpected but lasting friendships. Met loving juniors, and seniors who spoiled me to no end. I found a kind smile and a hand to hold. What an adventure it has been.

I spent many nights lying on mess roofs, wishing upon falling stars. Discovered a love for chai and a hatred for movies with open endings. I met simple people who wore an enthusiastic smile even after a long day of work. Learned that some doors would always be open for me and that there was absolutely no problem some chicken soup couldn’t solve. I did things I’m not proud of and made more mistakes than I can count. But I also had moments of triumph and discovered what I was capable of achieving. I have laughed till my stomach hurt and cried till my eyes were swollen. It has all been beautiful.

But now it’s over. The once bustling streets are empty and lifeless. Four years’ worth of memories are being packed into boxes by unfamiliar hands. I always knew this day would come; I just didn’t know it would come without warning. If I had, I would’ve taken a long walk around campus. Would have paused to take in its beauty and commit it to memory. From redi-hopping and wedding-crashing to museum trips and Glider’s club, I would’ve done it all. I would’ve hugged my friends a little tighter and taken more pictures. I can’t help but feel robbed of the chance to say goodbye. 

But I’ve had time to come to terms with that, to accept that this is how it ends. It’s an anticlimactic conclusion to what has been a beautiful adventure, but I’ll always be grateful that I got the opportunity to go on it. I already know that something will tug at my heart every time I see a picture of the clock tower. And that my winters will always be incomplete without Sharma Ji’s gulab jamuns. To be fair, the thought of sharing a bathroom with that many people still makes me uncomfortable. And when it’s 50 degrees outside, a little air conditioning wouldn’t hurt. But despite all its imperfections, I’m leaving with the knowledge that I did manage to make a home out of this place. And for now, that’s closure enough.