Even a lifetime is less to know a person or a place completely, they say. But maybe that does not hold true for these two years that I have spent in this institution that I now call home.
My college is like A.R Rahman songs. One does not seem to like it at first, because of its ‘atrangi-ness’. And then it gradually grows on you, becomes a part of you. I remember how grumpy I was when I came for the orientation before the session commenced, back in June 2014. I did not want to study here as all my friends remained at my former college. It was at the Sophia Bhabha Hall that I had met a really cheerful girl who till date has been there and seen all the ups and downs of my life, only to become a part of my journey. I also met another angel in my first year of BMM who I know will stick with me till my last breath. This is what Sophia does to you. It gives you the best of people. And you should hold onto them, while you can.
I don’t need a lifetime to create those infinite memories at Sophia. I just need the peaceful Den Corridor that gives wings to the hidden emotions of my heart. I can sit there for countless hours with a diary and a pen.
I need the canteen that has never failed to satiate my hunger pangs with its Veg Indian Mini Meal and Mysore Masala Dosa, coupled with my daily dose of cutting chai. The fondest of memories were made during the Kaleidoscope season, when we ran helter-skelter to meet deadlines, had endless meetings at the BMM steps, were shouted at/ by our seniors (Without whom we would have never learnt the tricks of the trade) and just threw our bodies on the floor at the Den Corridor after the day’s hard work. One of the happiest moments was singing ‘Boom-Snap-Clap’ at the Marble Stairs with an almost infectious level of enthusiasm.
Like all the rozy things, I have had bad memories too, which only made me blossom and toughen up, as an individual. Dr.Colaco, being the task-master that she has always been, has made me cry for innumerable times in the last two years, only to appreciate my work later and make me happy about myself. The professors at times have made me feel like I am not worth anything, only to make me feel like I can conquer the world, the very next moment. And therein lies the trick, you see. They never shower compliments in your face. They do it behind your back, so as to refrain you from getting heady and over confident.
I have a suitcase full of memories-from different people in the college. Sister Roza who never ceases to motivate me; the canteen bhaiyas who often get chatty and pardon me for not having ‘chillar’; Jyoti Ma’am at the gym who patiently listens to those constant rantings about my fat thighs and tells me that they are not; the watchmen who have restricted my entry for not carrying the ID card, for god alone knows how many times; the strict disciplinarians I had to encounter during my once-in-a-blue-moon visit to the library; among others.
However, there are two things that make me teary-eyed. Our batch has 68 students who never really got along with each other, until today, as I write this piece of nostalgia. ‘Groupism’, as the coinage goes, prevailed in SYBMM. The class had internal politics (or so they say) and there were undefined barriers created by us. We never got the appreciation we deserved, as a batch. Or maybe everything had a right time. And the second year of college was that time when all the professors spoke highly of us as a batch and appreciated us for our projects. They helped us bond as a class by dividing the batch into different teams, about which we were initially very unhappy, only to realize later that this was a conscious effort by the department to make us one cohesive unit and strengthen our bond. This was followed by a series of class photographs with our favorite professors posing for us, and our public display of affection on social media. We also had a Stress Management session, conducted by one of my favorite professors, wherein we were asked to bare our heart out and speak about a few undesirable chapters from our book of life, that had deterred us from rising all this while. I remember how almost half of the class wept and howled while narrating their anecdotes and how there was empathy on each face. Opening up, takes a great deal dexterity, after all. That day was historic. We were all emotionally naked. And it is going to bring a smile on my face when I become a feeble, old lady and come back to my roots to attend the re-union at the Central Lawn.
This institution helps you discover yourself, moulds you into what you thought you would never become and takes you to places. Sophia is not just a college; it is an epitome of perfection, amidst all its imperfections.
For life is Sophia, and Sophia is life.
Oindrilla Gupta SYBMM 2015-16
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