Graduation (in absentia)

“Therefore, according to this case, only the damages that are reasonably foreseeable at the time of the breach are liable to be paid to the non-breaching party…Hmm….yeah, that makes sense…so then, they wouldn’t have had to pay….right?”

My voice trailed off as I briefly scanned the rest of the page to confirm if my thought process was accurate. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the clock read 8:00 PM, which meant that someone would soon be leaving a package containing a delicious helping of naan and paneer tikka masala outside my door. I smiled at the prospect of stuffing my face, as my stomach had been growling for the better part of half an hour.

‘Probably not as good as what your friends back in India are having, though.’

My smile faded as the annoying voice inside my head decided to speak up and remind me once again of what I was missing out on. ‘It’s morning right now in India, isn’t it? Today is the day – what do you think they’re all doing right now?’

I scowled and shut the book in front of me with more force than necessary, the loud THUD resounding throughout the quiet room. I sighed and looked towards my bed, where my phone lay. I felt the urge to open Instagram and scroll through everyone’s stories, but I stayed put in my chair, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything except make me feel more estranged from my college than I already was. As I was deciding what to do, my phone buzzed. I walked over to it and saw that it was a text from my best friend Amanda, asking if I was going to watch it via the livestreaming link that had been sent out a week ago. I sighed and threw my phone back on the bed before collapsing on it myself, lost in thought.

I was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on my door. I rose from my chair and opened the door to reveal my roommate, Prasad. “Hey Zaden, I think our food is here – are you ready to eat?” I nodded and said, “You mind bringing it in? I’ll get everything set up in the kitchen.” Prasad nodded and headed out the door, and I ventured into the kitchen to get plates and spoons.

Ten minutes later, the two of us were sitting in the hall, digging into the piping hot delicacies of Northern India. Prasad was particularly animated, given that his final exam had already taken place and he was effectively free to do whatever he pleased. I tried to match his enthusiasm, but I was doing a crappy job of it because in the middle of rattling off a list of things that he was looking forward to doing, he stopped and said, “What’s going on with you?”

Nonplussed, I replied, “What do you mean?”

Prasad rolled his eyes. “You haven’t strung more than two sentences together since we started eating. I get that it’s exam season and all that, but right now, you’re managing to be quieter than me whenever I had to sneak back into my house after a night of drinking. Is everything okay?” I nodded. “Yeah, for the most part.” Prasad raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” I sighed and said, “It’s kind of a long story.” Prasad snorted and said, “Well, neither of us are going anywhere, so you may as well spill.” I looked at him with a small grin and said, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be….ah, what was the third thing you mentioned…..‘drinking shots and smoking people at pool’?” Prasad grinned. “Okay, so you were listening earlier. And while, yes, that sounds like an amazing time, it would be even better if you explained what’s gotten you in such a funk, because then I can smoke with a guilt-free conscience.” I rolled my eyes and said, “How very noble of you.” He winked and motioned for me to start talking. I sighed, put my plate down, and explained the entire story.

In my fourth year of law school back in India, the pandemic forced all of us back to our homes, and the last few semesters were conducted remotely, which of course meant that I didn’t get do to a lot of the things that my seniors got to do in their last semesters, like have a group dinner with the vice-chancellor, or attend a farewell that would be organized by our immediate junior batch, or go on a farewell tour all around campus, among other things. There were mutterings that we would be allowed back for our final semester for one last hurrah, and while something was briefly arranged, the world’s continued downward spiral ensured that it was merely a temporary fix. I was devastated at this news, but my friends and I took solace in the fact that we were suffering together.

As it was our final year, there was the matter of when and how our graduation ceremony would occur. After a series of negotiations between our batch and the administration, we were able to get them to agree to have our graduation ceremony in person. Naturally, everyone was overjoyed at this news, as it meant that we could see the campus that we had spent the past four years at, and we could catch up with friends that we hadn’t seen in ages. The one caveat was that it had to happen in the second half of the year, a condition I was not a fan of, because I knew that come August, I would be leaving India to attend law school in the United States, and I was skeptical of the possibility of being able to fly back for the ceremony. However, I pushed the concern from my head, and when my friends asked me if I would be there for the ceremony, I assured them that I would. The graduation ceremony was one I had seen throughout my years as a student in college as I watched my seniors take their first steps into the scary world of adulthood. Now, it was time for me to walk up on that stage, and there was nothing that could be done to deter my determination to be there in person to finally bookend my college journey.

As it turned out, however, life had other plans for me. First, my parents told me that they weren’t in favor of me flying back to India for the ceremony because of how risky air travel was; even though I was vaccinated, potential exposure would require me to stay put in India for at least two weeks. Of course, since I was still a college student, I was in no position to finance the trip myself, so that wasn’t an option. I fought and pleaded with them, knowing that this was my one chance to gain back some of the time I had lost thanks to the onset of the virus, but they were firm on the matter. I accepted their point, but still harbored hope that I could try asking them again, perhaps closer to the date, and they would be more sympathetic to my cause. However, that’s when the second curveball came. As it turned out, law schools in the United States kept their final exams in December, and while I knew this ahead of time, I wasn’t sure of the exact dates until much later, and of course, the dates for one of my exams and the ceremony happened to coincide, which meant there was absolutely no chance of me making it to the ceremony.

When I initially got the news, I was devastated, but thought that it wouldn’t be too bad, considering I would be hard at work, studying for the exams. However, in the days leading up to the ceremony, I saw Instagram posts and stories by my friends of them frequenting old hangout spots in college, meeting up with everyone, and just having a nostalgic time through and through, and every time I saw one of them, it felt like someone was driving a spike through my heart because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to experience any of it.

When I finished explaining all of this to Prasad, he was silent for a minute. I sighed and said in a heavy voice, “Yeah, I know its kind of stupid to be this worked up over something like this, given how it's literally not possible for me to go, but -”

“Nah, it’s not stupid at all – it’s a place you made so many memories in, good and bad, and it's clearly a place that you have a strong attachment to. It really does suck that you can’t be there for the final part of that story.” Prasad’s expression was somber as he held my gaze and continued, “If I didn’t get the chance to go to my graduation ceremony, I would have been pretty bummed out – so don’t feel bad about feeling bad. I’m sure there are a lot of people who aren’t in a position to go back for this ceremony...so you’re not alone in feeling this way.”

I remained silent, looking at my now empty plate. My thoughts felt like a whirlwind, threatening to overwhelm me. I opened my mouth, my voice faltering before I continued, “Is it wrong of me to feel bitter that they’re there and I’m not?” I stopped, realizing how petty I must have sounded in that moment before the next sentence sprang unbidden to my lips, and I pressed on. “I feel like I’m being punished for something, and I hate that everyone else gets to have fun and be together when I’m stuck here halfway around the world!” I said it with more force than I intended, my voice echoing through the hall. I looked at Prasad, wondering what his reaction would be.

To my surprise, he chuckled and said, “Let’s have a drink?” I opened my mouth to protest but he held up his hand and said, “Just one drink – I know you have to study for your exam, but I feel like we still have to celebrate your graduation somehow, don’t you agree?” I considered his words before slowly nodding.

We started to clean up the hall, putting our plates in the sink and disposing of all the containers from dinner, and five minutes later, we were sitting on the sofa, each of us nursing a glass of whiskey. I sipped my glass, welcoming the burning feeling that it brought in the back of my throat. We sat in silence for a while, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, the silence was broken by Prasad. “I don’t think it’s wrong to feel like you’re being punished. It’s highly illogical, but I can’t fault you for feeling that way. You can’t go for a legitimate reason – it’s not like you’re in a position to go and you can’t for some arbitrary reason, right?” I nodded, and Prasad continued,

“It definitely sucks….but hey, I’m sure your friends are missing you there right now, and they want you to be there just as much as you want to be there right now. And whether you’re there receiving your degree in person or not, you’re just as much a part of that batch as anyone else is. The memories you made with your friends in that place, and every moment you spent there…that doesn’t change just because you didn’t attend some long ceremony. Sure, you’ll feel a little left out that everyone got to experience this thing and you didn’t, but at the end of the day, you’re standing right there next to them as a graduate of that college.” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, for I feared that my emotions would overwhelm me if I did. Instead, I took another sip of my drink.

Prasad seemed to sense my mood, because he said, “By the way, have you thought of all the restrictions they’ll have to go through? Maybe it won’t be a super pleasant experience for them after all!” I chuckled at that, and said, “Maybe, yeah.” Deciding that we had discussed my life enough, I asked Prasad what his plans were for the upcoming vacation, and we spent the next ten minutes debating how to best spend two weeks in Boston. Unfortunately, I eventually had to get back to studying, and I polished off the rest of my drink, keeping the empty glass on the table. I turned to Prasad and said, “Thanks for listening…it means a lot.” Prasad smiled and raised his glass. “To your graduation.” I smiled and nodded before heading back to my room.

I called Amanda later that night and told her that I would be watching the ceremony, and when I said it, I didn’t feel any of the bitterness that I had previously harbored. Yes, it still hurt like hell, but I didn’t feel slighted or punished because my friends were there, and I wasn’t…it was just the way things were.

After our conversation, I was about to start studying when a random thought crossed my mind. I opened a couple of folders on my laptop and navigated to a little drabble that I wrote in my first year of college, after seeing my seniors celebrate their final days as students:

Music reverberated through the air and purple lights shone all over the stage as we waved our hands in the air. The final years were standing on stage singing along to the music. Some of them were crying, and at that moment, I empathized with them. I knew what it was like to leave a place you’ve grown to call home. It was the same melancholy feeling I got when I left my school for the last time, and when my classmates and I had our farewell dinner. I sighed and thought about how we would feel when it was our time to leave. ‘They’re going to need a much bigger stage for our year’, I thought with a grin.

I smiled sadly after reading the last word, knowing that everything I described would probably happen in some capacity and that I wouldn’t be there for any of it. But even so, I was proud of all of us for getting to this point. The night passed, and when the morning arrived, I opened the link and watched as each of my classmates got on stage and received their degree, and you can bet that I was clapping for each and every one of them.