Edited by: Navya Gupta
Step 1: Segregate your laundry. (You can’t fit as much as you think.)
The five suitcases you have laid out look so big and empty. They look like they’ll fit your entire Jane Austen collection, that one cute backless top you want to wear to Freshers and the speakers to blast music in your dorm while cleaning. But your daily-wear jeans take up half a suitcase and your jackets the rest. The brand-new formals need to be where that old Nirvana shirt is. You set aside the books you bought but never read to make space for your notebooks. Your three toiletry bags separated into makeup, skincare and shower products take up half of the other suitcase and make it overweight by three kilograms, so you remove that pretty set of ceramic trays that always adorned your study table. You stuff your bras into the drawers of the skin care organiser and underwear into your favourite coffee mug. The well-loved copy of Pride and Prejudice stays, as do the letters your best friend wrote you. But maybe you don’t really need that juicer, and definitely not your beloved pair of chunky boots; or the childish Selena Gomez poster on the wall. Next time, you think. It’s a new beginning, not the end.
Step 2: Load the machine (It’s a tight fit, and everything gets tangled.)
You unpack your suitcase full of dreams into a dorm room that’s smaller than you were told. Will you like your roommate? You’re so sure you want to major in Computer Science until you sit in a Politics class and you’re questioning your whole life. You’ve had that outfit planned since last month but you’re looking in the mirror and the earrings don’t match the kurti. Thursday nights are just being cramped with drunk strangers, and you get a C on your first college essay (despite wearing your lucky T-shirt). What did all those straight As in school mean? You’re never going to make the Dean’s list. There are couples everywhere, and the rest already seem to be in a situationship, at the least. There are so many big groups of friends and you’re stuck with the same three people you know from high school, even if you love them. Weren’t these supposed to be the best years of your life?
Step 3: Add detergent and close the door tightly. (A little goes a long way. Commit, but don’t get stuck.)
You go to all the academic expos, even though you came here with a set mind. For a week straight you grab breakfast with one group, lunch with another and dinner with a third. You try your hand at tennis for the first time at 3 am on a Wednesday. The orientations put you to sleep, but you still end up exchanging numbers with some girl you met. Is she going to be another name in the wind by tomorrow? You attend too many club fairs, society meetings, and mixers, hoping to meet new people only to end up sipping coke on a couch by yourself. You wave to everyone and introduce yourself with the same lines and one of them sticks. After dipping your feet everywhere, your dinner extends to four hours of yapping with that one person whose text you hesitated to answer, and it clicks.
Step 4: Choose the right cycle setting (One size doesn’t fit all.)
Four weeks in and three of those big friend groups have imploded; they all seem to hate each other now. You’ve figured out your exact coffee order and the comforting routine of picking it up before class after dropping your laundry bag off every Monday. You love taking lunches alone and dinners with the same girl from before. You swapped Twitter accounts on day three. You’ve realised that you’ll always miss out on some campus event no matter how hard you try. Thursday nights are way better with just your roommate and your mood lighting. You know which class you can skip readings for, for a lunch out. You know when the gym is empty. You didn’t make it to the club you dreamed about, but are an important part of one whose interview you almost missed. It isn’t the dream, but it feels close enough.Â
Step 5: Press Start (There’s no going back.)
Suddenly you’re juggling midterms and it hits you what college is really for. The lack of social life and romance take a back seat because you have a deadline every day. Google Calendar becomes your new best friend. You’re drowning in the intensity, wondering how you ever studied for school at all. There’s no time for the gym—or to eat and sleep. It feels absurd because it’s only your first semester, and you end up questioning how you’re ever going to get through seven more of these. There’s no escaping the grind now.Â
Step 5.5: If the machine isn’t working, give it a nice, hard kick to its side. (Go back to the basics. They always work.)
 Drink those five coffees. Pull that all-nighter. Crash at 3 pm after a quiz and don’t wake up till midnight. Feel like a college student yet? Eat ramen and sleep again. Wake up the next morning and eat a big breakfast. You’re going home this weekend. You’ll get to eat proper white rice and dal, sleep in your double bed for a bit, and remember what it’s like to breathe pollution-free air. There will be more assignments, but your mom won’t let you stay up past 11 pm to finish them. You’ll meet your best friend from high school, and maybe, begin to miss college just the tiniest bit. You’ll have already forgotten the bad parts, but that’s a good thing.
Step 6: Wait. (It takes time, but not as much as you’d think)
You notice all the changes. The shelf you emptied is now full of storage boxes. The wall of your room is bare because you took all the posters. Your parents finally replaced the blender, like they’ve been saying they would for ages. You can have those difficult political conversations with them now. You have opinions you know how to express. The assignments seem easier because the dedication still persists, and so do the hard-earned time management skills. You finally built up the courage to email that professor about office hours. It’s not comfortable, but it’s necessary.
Step 7: Unload, fold, and sort again. (The laundry basket looks empty, but you’ll have to put in the clothes you’re wearing now.)
You have to pack for a different season this time. The empty suitcases you brought back are ready to be filled with your treasured Nirvana sweatshirts and baggy sweatpants, replacing the tanks and skirts in your closet. Your suitcase will sit on top of it, already full, ready for things to take home during Winter break. Maybe there will be new numbers in your recents by then, or maybe the same ones. But you’re pretty sure you’ll still be talking to that one girl. Your budget will be tighter because you’re an adult now. You kind of miss home even when you’re still there. You’re thinking of changing your sleep routine—for real this time. The cycle feels endless, but at least it’s new every time.