With graduation right around the corner, third-years sit by as they lose all hope of getting a physical farewell, or any of the college experiences for that matter. DU Beat spoke to some of them in order to get an insight into their psyche and know the popular opinion that has been going around.

The pandemic has taken away a lot of things from us, but most of all, it has stolen away some of the most beautiful days of one’s life — a real chance at a college experience. With having completed a year, confined to the four walls of our room, we sit and wonder as our dreams, hopes, ambitions fade away into the lone. 

Anushree Joshi, a third-year student at LSR says, “The greatest loss of finishing college online is the ability to sit and look my peers in the eyes as they tell me about their days and I tell them about mine. The anxiety of things ending, in any normal year, would be wrapped up in the hullabaloo of celebration — multiple farewells, graduation dinners, and the lasts of meals and outings.”

But there’s a pang of ineffable sadness now, in knowing that some of the teachers who have changed the way I look at life have never even seen my face in real life, or might not remember it. It’s a loss much less significant than what this world is experiencing right now in different ways, but it’s a loss incredibly personal and irreparable,” she added.

Another, 3rd-year History major Aanya Wig elaborated on her wishlist for the New Year’s this year, “I wished to go back to campus, I wish I could sit in class and attend a lecture, I wished I could sit in the sun in the front lawns, I wished to get another vada pao, I wished I could hear the chirpy voices in the corridor, I wished to walk on campus again, and I wished to spend a little more time with the wonderful women at college.”

How does one then even begin to grapple with such questions, then? During the past year, people have lost people, their incomes, and even their interest in anything and everything around. The thought of bidding goodbye to such spaces of liberalism and inclusivity to be out there in the ‘real world’ is frightening enough that now, we even have to deal with not being able to go back to college for that one last time: sit in those lush green lawns, or juggle between classes as you order that cup of ice tea or chilly cheese Maggi from the Nescafé and sit at your favourite spot which makes you feel home with people who have stayed with you during the past three years, even when everyone else left. How does one even begin to get closure?

I don’t think the idea of online classes was bad in itself because yes, it was the need of the hour, but like million other things, this idea was also not executed well. Not only the students, but the teachers also faced a lot of issues to get adjusted to this new normal. Not to mention how it has adversely affected the process of learning in itself,” expressed Somya Jain, an Economics major at LSR.

Shivani Dadhwal, a KNC student elaborated on the losses we have all faced as a collective,

Having spent 50% of the time at online college is sad, there are so many unfinished Nescafé ice teas, college gang trips, classes, fests, outfits to wear to college, impromptu plans, whacky canteen food combinations, conversations and jokes. Abruptly, one was made to pack it all up and just walk away.”

It’s okay to mourn, it’s okay to get disheartened or even feel at loss here, but it’s not okay to not gift yourself the right to celebrate your own graduation. You deserve this farewell (even if it’s online) more than anyone else and hold on to your memories, learnings, and celebrations for your tomorrow will find you much farther than where you are today.


Featured Image Credits: DU Updates


Annanya Chaturvedi

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A large part of our childhood is made of summer vacations at our Grandmother’s house. It is the single most vibrant memory full of being pampered, getting stuffed like a roasted chicken, made-up games that ended up in fights and screaming matches with cousins and days that ended too quickly. 

With dirty faces and flayed knees, we ran around amok like a flock of wild geese with no sense of propriety or fear of parents. In short, it was unadulterated freedom served to us in huge beautiful summer away from studies and parents.   

Even as summer heat roasted us red and brown, it still was hard to tame us and get us to stay put in one place. It feels like another lifetime when our energy was limitless and wicked ideas came to us in spades. 

My grandmother was a warm oasis of affection who told me mythical stories, showed me constellations, fed me mysterious things and scolded my cousins when they left me out from their games because I was the only girl. She protected me from my parents when I fell off a cliff while aping my brothers in acts of daring and bravery which they specifically told me not to do.  

When you are all grown up, the whole meaning of summer vacations changes. In college, it is either interning, vacationing at some exotic place or staring at your ceiling fan filled with the existential crisis while your work is calling your name with the insistence of that one clingy ex. 

The summer vacations at grandmother are not similar to what you were used to. The annoying cousins are all grown up with their noses stuck deep down their books and breaking manly voice under the pretext of which they act like gangsters but come off like cheap cronies. The communication is no longer around a carrom board pulling each other’s leg relentlessly but sitting in the same room and sending each other inane texts. 

The whole ecstatic environment has changed and feels grown-up. 

You are no longer spending your days out in summer heat creating havoc with the relentless energy of a child who has a lot of time and no worries. You are cooped up inside the four walls and still staring at your ceiling fan worrying about the trivialities of life. Even in the face of the broken arm, you were dauntless and strong, a small paper-cut can now result in complete breakdown.

However, Grandmother is the only constant. Even though she is old now and suffering her own health woes. She still scolds you for being thin, not coming to meet her and not regularly calling her. She still sings her hymns in the low lilt and you still wake up to her low humming at the break of dawn. She still protects your bad habits from your parents and spoils you rotten with her affection and love. 

The timeless quality of that one amazing summer is fading and only your memory preserves it. But whenever you are feeling blue and low, that memory will always serve as a constant source of happiness. 

Feature Image Credits: lisa.falson via Instagram.

Antriksha Pathania
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14th Nov…Comes again. Besides hopefully reminding us of the birthday of the first Prime Minister of Independent India, it brings with it innumerable memories of innocent days. When asked to write this article, I never knew the simple task would make memories of lost years flood back and clamour for attention even as nostalgia caused my heart to grow heavy over the irretrievable past. In those days it were the little things that mattered, and when you strain your memory now what you remember most clearly are precisely those ‘insignificant’ little joys.

A brief mention of Little Lulu’s cheeky dialogues should be in order here. And we can’t forget Barney and Fred’s bowling games in Flintstones, the innovative aircrafts in Jetsons, the lovable cowardly Scooby and Shaggy and the all time favorite Tom and Jerry. I’m sure just like me, you all also went through the fever of collecting Tazos from every Cheetos packet. Playing Stone-Paper-Scissors and hand cricket(with rolled up foil acting as ball) during the long school bus journeys and lunch breaks. I’m sure you’d all secretly agree to have having read Sweet Valley Junior High or Baby Sitters Club in your tween years or pairing Barbie with handsome Ken. One thing which never seems to go out of fashion are collectible trump cards, though they seem to have evolved from the beloved WWF cards of our days to Pokemon cards or something equally alien.

Well, those days really had a charm of their own and once in a while reminiscing about them is a wonderful thing. However all said and done, life is beautiful and each stage is enjoyable in its own way. So now that you’ve read this and hopefully day dreamt a bit about your own childhood, lets live our college days with gusto and build more memories well worth cherishing in the far distant future.

-Mallika Davar


I am at a loss as to where to start recounting my childhood memories from. I miss every little weird thing! Insisting on having a happy meal at every trip to McDonalds; listening to the backstreet boys on the walkman at the back of the class; collecting tazos and trump cards only to trade them for more; Going to Appu Ghar for eight out of the ten odd school ‘picnics’ we had; Collecting G.I. Joes. Favourite cartoons such as the Adams Family and Captain Planet! Complicated ways of selecting the ‘denner’ in Tag: In-pin-safety pin, inky-pinky-ponky, etc. Watching Nickelodeon from two to six every afternoon. Collecting little cars, the ones you pull back to make them go vroooom! (The ones my brother ran over my hair for fun, sigh). I’m glad I’ve grown up.

-Kritika Kushwaha


I never thought much of Children’s Day as a kid. Since it was never a holiday it wasn’t any particular fun, except those rare occasions of course when the school inexplicably decided to be nice to us, and took us to Children’s Park or Lodhi Garden. Oh, those times were fun! Now when I sit back and reminisce, distinct memories flit by. I realize with a pang that I miss being a carefree child, embarrassing memories and painful ignorance notwithstanding. Disney Hour, Full House, agonizing over marks, buying large plastic balls and candy floss from the cycle- wallah bhaiya and so much more! There is so much I miss, so much I wish I could go back to.

I think I owe much of the initial stages of my fluttering imagination to Enid Blyton. I can recall umpteen evenings, huddled in some corner of the house, devouring stories of English boarding schools or adventures of the Secret Seven. How I longed to be a part of a secret society, have passwords, own a pet like Scamper! I spent the summer holidays wishing that I too could go to a boarding school. The most fantastic of Enid Blyton’s books for me is The Faraway Tree. Mr.Whatzisname, Moonface, Dame Washalot, Saucepan Man…they were magical stories.

Then there was the freckled Archie and inquisitive TinTin. I gradually moved on to Sweet Valley and Nancy Drew. Another fabulous author was Agatha Christie; I doubt I have read better mysteries than The Crooked House, And Then There Were None, Sparkling Cyanide and so many more.

Also, I think a mention of Harry Potter is in order here; 10 year olds are children are they not? But then, I grew up with Harry Potter.

Radhika Marwah


I miss being a kid and just getting away with everything. You could be digging your nose, jumping into every mud puddle on the way, singing your favourite nursery ryhme for the millionth time in a silly squeaky voice- doing practically anything you wish. All the reactions would get would be “Aww so cute!” As children we were complete nuts, doing the most random stuff like dipping fingers in fevicol, waiting for it to dry , then peeling it off with the utmost sincerity. No one ever wondered what the point of the exercise was, we didn’t need a thing to be meaningful to enjoy it in those days. I miss the simplicity of doing things just because you liked to do them, with no one to roll their eyes or scowl at you.

Aina Mathew