This memoir comes after days and days of procrastination. Days of trying to make it a fancy, great-to-read memoir that would at least come close to doing justice to my time here. My ambition turned out to be wishful thinking because no quality of writing and combination of words could ever do justice to Roorkee.

When I finally started, I was very confused about what I should write.

“Should I tell them my story?”

“Should I talk about my learnings?”

“Should I talk about my many failures? Or about the few triumphs I’ve had?”

“Maybe I should talk about a few key memories?”

The real question that I was trying to fnd an answer to here was “How do I give them enough context so that they can understand what Roorkee and my time here means to me?!”

Them. Them?

Eventually, I realised that there is no them.

There’s just us here.

You and I, Roorkee.

This is not an opportunity to preach or to pretend that I know any better than I used to because you know I don’t. You know my story. You’ve seen me laugh till my tummy had stitches and you’ve seen me weep like a child. You’ve heard me scream out of frustration and you’ve seen me dance out of pure joy.

You’ve been a silent witness to my most private moments and you know who I truly am.

So no, this is not a time to pretend.

This is a time to be bare and honest and to humbly acknowledge that I’m only human and will never be perfect. The best I can do is try to be self-aware and coming even close to self-awareness takes a lifetime. Hence, all I have is a modicum of self-awareness most of which has been gained here through pain and disappointments and victories and with some wonderful friends by my side all while you silently cradled me close and kept me safe.

You’re home to me, Roorkee. I grew up while you silently watched over me. You taught me to be brave and resilient. You taught me to take initiative. You taught me to be kind both to myself and to others. You taught me to stare into the eyes of 300 odd people and sing a 6-minutes long rock song at the top of my lungs with a sore throat. You taught me to let go and just dance. You taught me to own my flaws. And above all, you taught me love. Love for myself, love for you, love for life and love for everyone and everything else. Unapologetic, irrational love. You’ve taught me so much! I could just keep going.

So yeah, you’re home, Roorkee. You will always be. And no matter where I go, you will always have my heart.

Thank you, Roorkee. Thank you for everything.

Now for the juniors reading this:

Live it up and live it loud. Go on trips, make friends, ask your crush out, fall in love, get your heart broken (in any order you like), laugh out loud and don’t sweat the small stuf. Trust me, nothing comes close to Roorkee. Nothing can ever even begin to compare.

Before I sign off, here are some of my favourite memories captured in slightly awkward photographs- a slice of my life from me to you.

So that’s all folks. I wish I could tell you more, everything even… But when there’s so much to say, saying much becomes difficult.

Signing off,
Komal Maheshwari
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