Once upon a time in July…

The ‘joos’ start pouring in, and the whole campus takes a fresh breath. New faces and unseen crowds fill every path. The commotion to get a bicycle or a mattress in front of Nesara, curious glances and searching eyes taking everything in, and anxious parents hovering nearby, all remind me of what it was like when I was a ‘joo’ myself.

I recall a comic tradition from those days that most of us unknowingly followed. Some curious kids would step into the library and go around browsing the shelves to find something to read. Books on microbiology, statistical mechanics, or quantum chromodynamics were carried to the reading desks – by hands too tiny to hold them – in an ambitious attempt to read (or to pretend to do so, at least), and they faithfully did so until too much went right over their heads! Many, after being exhausted by this, would retreat to the ‘floating chairs’ under the staircase, or hang around the garden. I suppose most of us were simply awestruck by the grandeur and the scale of the place, and explored it as if it were a tourist spot. This phase lasted only as long as these kids had ‘stars in their eyes’. When those stars dimmed, most of them never again found their way back to this place to do what they had once done (The author solemnly admits that he has been no different)! Looking back, I pity the library attendants who had to manage that massive influx of students and guide confused kids through the registration, and endure the treatment of their workplace as a local hangout!

While we have touched on the subject of tourist spots, I will mention another place well worth a visit, though certainly not built for that purpose: The Department of Mathematics. I first laid eyes on it during a campus tour with our ‘soos’. A classic-looking stone path, lit up by classic-looking lights, leads to this. A stroll down this paved road feels like a scene out of a fairytale. Moreover, this department is probably one of the most picturesque on campus: lush green shrubs, manicured lawns, and a quiet little pond with beautiful fish and turtles. Even these days, whenever I visit this place for one reason or another, I take a moment to appreciate its beauty and observe the fish before leaving—often drying the metaphorical tears my math courses reduce me to. I envy the math majors, who get to call such a beautiful place home. Lucky them!

July is a month of rain, and rain is enjoyed best here. The light drizzles showering down as you walk under the canopy of Gulmohar Marg, the smell of wet earth, headlights shimmering on damp road, water droplets glistening under street lights, and trees swaying in the wind—together these make for my absolute ‘peak’ evening experience. It was in the company of this climate that I discovered a nursery down the road from the main building. What a breathtaking, unforgettable scene it had to offer! Flowers of all colours, shapes, sizes, and varieties adorn this place. Even when it is not open to visitors, a cursory look from outside can be quite mesmerizing.

And then there’s ‘Sarvam’- whose canteen is best known as our “saviour from mess food”. The first time I saw this place, it did not feel like a part of a college campus at all; it felt more like a bustling city shopping complex. You can always find some people enjoying food, others chatting around in the nearby sheds, and often some meetup or other event occurring around. Without a doubt, it’s the most vibrant, bustling heart of the campus all year round.

Before being admitted to IISc, I had only ever seen pictures of the main building on the internet. It is a deeply elevating experience to see what was once a distant aspiration become a mark on the fabric of reality. Every now and then, when I am exhausted and need to clear my head, I take a walk around the main building. If wrestling with problems at my desk doesn’t work, strolling in those sands and through the ‘forests’ in front of the building almost always does. It remains my ultimate go-to remedy when I need to think.

When my parents left me alone in my room for the first time last July, the realization that I belonged to this place – this huge place – began to take root. If someone points out that this should have happened when I first visited the place on my counseling day, I would disagree; back then, I still didn’t know if I would truly end up ‘belonging’ here.

Looking back on those first ten days with the benefit of hindsight, I feel a deep affection for the wide-eyed explorer I was. Through the lens of memory, I see what I did back then, and it reminds me of everything that made the experience ‘complete’: the smells, the tastes, the sounds, the stream of emotions, of awe, of wonder, of curiosity flooding my mind like an overflowing stream. The physical spaces remain unchanged, and with some effort, I could retrace my exact steps. However, I can never again feel, think, or perceive them the way I did then. Living here transforms you, and this altered version of myself can never return to being that innocent newcomer. That magic is preserved only in memory—unattainable now, but still cherished. Well, here’s a lesson too obvious and from someone too young: when you are somewhere new, pause to take it all in. Let the moment, the atmosphere, and the sensations sink in. Be truly present-for then, and only then, can you preserve it well enough to relive it when needed. Otherwise, when you open your arms to embrace it, the past – being a forlorn relic – shall fade away into nothingness, just like fog at daybreak. There is a tender delight in being unfamiliar with a place—a spark that fades as you settle in. So cherish your early days on campus and wherever life takes you next. At the least, you’ll be left with a story worth telling: “Once upon a time in July….”