Two months from the date of admission, it was time to move into my dorm, leaving everything I gained in my hometown behind to begin a new journey, toward what fate had in store for me.
I was already late to join my classes because of my conflicting emotions, and the on-and-off lockdown throughout the country.
I already missed one of my tests and for the second, I had to be there.
So I set out to my new journey, wondering what would it be like- the town, the people, their behavior, and my life there. After an 8-hour journey on the railway, I was there and the first thing I felt was instant regret. The town was ugly, deranged, and dirty and the people were weird!
Still, my mind started consoling me that maybe it is just some old folks who were weird, and the college or classmates might not be as bad. If I was there trusting my fate, I might as well trust it now. Or maybe it was because I had no other option.
Soon enough, we reached the college, and the hostel was nearby. Heading to the hostel, it was worse than I imagined and my mother's constant persuasion to live in a flat started ringing in my ears. Guess she was right. It was dirty, in a depressing way, it looked like a prison, a place built on the ground of misery.