Big folder in hand (it contains about forty copies of each marksheet and certificate issued since eighth grade), confusion and anticipation in eyes that are squinting under a sun well on its way to the peak of its fury, the regulation bottle of water/Coke tucked into jhola/satchel, hesitation-and-exhileration-tinged voice that asks the rickshaw puller how much he will charge for a ride to this college, or that, or the other...I see myself in every kid on campus these days. I see my worries crease their foreheads as they check every poster and pamphlet pasted on the Wall of Democracy. I see my near-maniacal adherence to application deadlines in their scribbling pads, filled with details of interview schedules and entrance tests. I see my excitement at having finally arrived where I wanted to in groups of students huddling happily near the admissions office, comparing cut offs and sharing views. I see my bewilderment and total lack of preparation for the scorching Delhi summer in the kids clustered around the bantawala and the Kwality carts, fanning themselves with those precious marksheets as they wait for their drink or ice cream. Every time I bump into one of these kids, or stop to give them directions to the nearest photocopier's or some college or the hostels, I see my dreams and ambitions mirrored in their eyes. I see my youthful hopes in their manner, I see my determination in the way they stride on, once given directions.
In every kid milling around Andrews' Gate, especially, I see my excitement and nervous hopefulness. I see, as I watch them filling out pale green forms, my eagerness to prove myself a good fit with College, the extra care taken to ensure it's all perfect. In kids enquiring for the price of a Residence brochure, I see my keenness to be a Resident, my anxiety that I will ruin it all by forgetting a stamp or a signature. In the awestruck caress of their fingers over the stone pillars, I feel awe and that sudden feeling of belonging flooding my heart.
It is my worries, my fears, my hopes, my dreams, my beliefs and my efforts that each of them now wears on his or her face, eyes and smile; my desire to begin on the right foot that he or she walks with.
No, there were no shuttle services courtesy Idea, Airtel or Vodafone (brilliant marketing strategy, by the way. More on that later) all those years ago. There weren't even so many little information kiosks and helpdesks manned by students from DUSU, or the Northeast Association, or this party or that organisation. There was no Metro, so Vishwa Vidyalaya was not the hub of all the promotional brouhaha or the "Welcome to DU" activity. The centralised application system had not kicked in fully, so every college had its own form(alities). The hoardings (there weren't so many) were not plastered with "Welcome Freshers" or an equally hospitable variant of the same, enticing students to visit a showroom or eat at a restaurant and obtain special discounts. There was none of this.
But it was all the same. Because discounts and free shuttle services and helpdesks may come and go, but the phenomenon won't change: thousands of youngsters thronging the University, making an entry into so many things at one go - adulthood, college life, independent living, a new city. Despite what AC Nielsen or ORG-MARG will have us believe, marks - those all-important numbers defining every student's future - are no basis for differentiation. Nor is the small-town - big-city difference any less immaterial. Nothing. There's this underlying similarity that numbers or geography can't even begin to undo...a new beginning, innocent hope, a clean slate. Life like a highway waiting to be explored, for the very first time.
And that is what I envy them the most, those kids that I see myself in.
