My Spring Flowers and Collection of Dry Leaves as Memories

This writing was done after my graduation, but was later posted online.

My journey has now come to an end. I began it with feelings of disappointment and anger after finishing my higher secondary, and it took more than six years to complete. Before I knew it, so much time had passed during my university life. How did it all go by? What did I gain from this long journey?

Yes. Occasionally, I was lucky enough to find a few friends who would check in, ask how I was doing, scold me a little out of care or frustration, and just be there. I’ve had the good fortune of receiving a few inspiring words from seniors—“You’re doing great,” “Keep going,” “Well done.” I’ve had younger ones who would say things like, “I’m coming,” “Let’s meet,” “Where are you?” And there were teachers who said, “Your name will stay with me—grow up well.” That expectation stayed with me.

For now, I have no regrets. What we receive is what was meant for us—whether it brings overwhelming joy or heartbreaking sorrow. I’ve long since let go of the idea that the sum of every equation must be positive. So, there are no complaints—only a bag full of experiences and countless memories: of love, emotion, and excitement.

I didn’t live a university life like this: come, take the train, attend class, go home. I lived it fully—in cottages, hostels, Ek nambar, South Campus, and more. I went frog hunting on hilltops in the rainy season and stayed out all night. I wandered every inch of the campus—south, west, north, east—exploring with friends. I climbed mountains, searched for deer, and so much more.

I’ve felt the irritation of damp clothes sticking to me in the humid campus heat. I’ve walked through bone-chilling cold in winter, returned with a sore throat, and walked on silently, accepting countless unspoken truths.

University taught me to embrace completely opposing views—something many people might never experience in their lifetime. I’ve seen a boy who prays five times a day, and I’ve seen an atheist—someone who doesn’t believe in any Creator. I’ve seen changes in both. At university, I witnessed love—deep, powerful love. I saw separation, fierce arguments. I saw the hidden goodness in someone who seemed entirely bad, and the helpless, overwhelming love of someone vulnerable.

I’ve learned to get angry, to fake anger, to control it, to avoid it while still expressing criticism. I’ve learned self-affirmation. I’ve changed—again and again—over time.

Can anyone truly say they’ve learned all of this in just ten years? Some may never learn to accept such things in an entire lifetime. I’m not in any race—and how many really understand the race that's rooted in despair?

Spring flowers, collecting dry leaves, staring at the moon, sitting silently beside the lotus pond during rainy monsoon evenings… waking up to the sound of afternoon games, watching a lizard’s shadow on the wall—these countless memories are mine. And for them, I take responsibility. I am grateful.

In the face of an uncertain future, I carry the fire of words I learned here too.

My university life came to an end. The long journey’s boat will now dock at another horizon.