This article was sent to us by Samira Mathias, a first-year student at the Gujarat National Law University (GNLU), a budding writer, music aficionado, movie buff who has a long-standing love affair with all things Irish.
I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the winter moons that could be a deep bloody red or a giant opaque orb. Maybe it’s the romanticism associated with unrestricted freedom of choice and the chance to forge your own path. Maybe it’s the wonderful, warm, wacky friends – the people you’ve come to have late day and late night discussions with, on matters ranging from the mundanity of college life to the intersection of music and morality, sci-fi and fan fic and religion and the law. Maybe it’s the symbolism of it all. Maybe it’s none of the above. But something, something about law school makes you hit earth shattering realizations and experience the most minuscule of shifts in your perspectives.
I went back dreamy after the first semester. I always thought recounts about university life and proclamations of it being the best years of your life were overrated. But I was wrong. It was better than anything I’d anticipated. Law students don’t like being wrong. But this was one concession I made all too willingly.
Yet two months down the line, I moaned the necessity to return. I fought the compulsion and dwelt in self pity. Did I have to go back to early mornings, hour long lectures, laundry woes and most of all, the constantly repressed but vaguely felt, undercurrent of homesickness?
Despite my most vehement protestations, I was unceremoniously shipped back to serve out the rest of my sentence. It took three days to fall in love with the law life all over again.
I’ve come to realise, it’s always going to be this way. A love-hate (though mostly love) relationship with a passion, a profession and a way of life. I’m going to resent the work only because I enjoy it so ardently. I’m going to complain about the difficulties of a hostel, only because I’m extraordinarily grateful to have an amazing network of supportive friends who commiserate more than berate. And at the end of each set of holidays, I’m going to come back from my home, moaning and moping, only because I know I’ll leave college doing the same.
Leaving home the second time round was tougher. However, coming back wasn’t as hard as I expected.
I have this oft appearing, intense aversion for clichés. But this time, as they all fell into place, I could only experience a sweet satisfaction. Half a year through – the friends became family, the hostel became home and the life was loved.
I hope the next four and a half years will bring a greater knowledge of the safeguards of our society, a stronger compassion and passion to help and deepen my desire to know and learn simply because someone out there will one day need my help and I will have a moral duty to do my best.
Till then, I’ll soldier on. Cause if it’s some thing I’ve learnt, good faith trumps non disclosure agreements, family will always bail you out, and if you can get through the CLAT, you can probably brave the rest of your life.
To me, that was an important moment.
In other words, I got lawyered.
Editor’s Note: I recommend reading Samira’s lovely blog, http://chasingutopia.me/
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