Tabula rasa (/ˈtæbjələ ˈrɑːsə, -zə, ˈreɪ-/)
Blank Slate
New beginnings, fresh starts, clean records. All of
these give people a chance to turn over a new leaf; to make a fresh start.
Initially I used to look forward to them, in hope to escape from my current
shackles. I always viewed new beginnings as a second chance, bringing with it a
utopian scenario. A model plot, where everything went by the game plan without
experiencing any hiccups or setbacks; where there was a fairy godmother who
could transfigure you into Cinderella; where the hero always vanquished the
villain; where a little bit of pixie-dust could resolve all complications. As
the famous saying goes, ‘ The grass on the other side is always greener.’
Thankfully, it didn’t take ‘life’ too long to disprove this theory and
saying of mine. The saying soon changed to ‘ The grass is greener where you
water it’.
Uncertain on whether it was advantageous or
disadvantageous, the one thing that I did realise for certain, was that my
rose-tinted shades would no longer work. They had been brutally exchanged with
high power cristal lenses. The world no longer appeared roseate, but now it
appeared with all its vibrant hues and sombre shades. As much as there was
positivity in the atmos, it was countered by an equivalent amount of
negativity. Happiness was balanced by sadness, good by bad, peace by
distress, and black by white. My utopian view of new beginnings was soon
trashed for a more realistic, pragmatic and diplomatic view.
Quite satisfied with this new found realization,
life surprisingly took a rather untroubled pathway. But as is the case with
every realization, this realization of mine also has a story to it-my story;
where I am the storyteller, not my parents, not my friends, not my teachers,
not my relatives, but me-with all my perfect imperfections.
The plane touched down, taxied on the pathway and
finally came to a stop. The seatbelt sign turned off, but as usual passengers
were already up on the alley lugging their suitcases down from the overhead
compartment. I was glad to be back. The destination provided me an
unexplainable comfort, but the purpose of visit always balanced this with an
equal amount of concern and apprehension.
‘Would I be able to settle in? Would I be able to
make friends? What if I’m not able to make any friends? What if, I don’t like
the food? What if I fall sick? Will there be medicines available there? How
will I cope with all the work alone? Will I be able to understand all the new
accents I will have to encounter? What if, I don’t like the course that I’ve
taken?’ These thoughts kept me preoccupied the entire journey to my, soon to
be, home.
The uncertainty and dilemma that plagued my mind
mysteriously vanished upon sight of my University’s name written in huge, bold,
black letters at the entrance. I finally found the missing jigsaw piece which
completed my puzzle, and everything suddenly fell in place. All the ambivalent
thoughts in my head suddenly didn’t seem that consequential. I knew that my
journey had just commenced and that I would encounter problems but the
adrenaline rush inside me at that moment gave me an unfound burst of
confidence.
It was with this confidence that I set out on my
first day of University, which was also the first day of orientation week. I
will admit that I was very elevated and tense at the same time to meet my
coursemates, as I would finally get faces for the various characters I had made
up in my head for the cliche university scenarios, which I derived from the
countless blogs, books, documentaries and movies I devoured on this topic. Like
every freshmen I had very high expectations of orientation week, but my first
impression didn’t turn out to be a very promising one. On reaching the
stipulated venue ten minutes late, it didn’t take me long to realise that I was
the odd one out. Being the only one with a different ethnicity and nationality,
I felt a bit like Banquo from Macbeth.
Concern and apprehension slowly started to bubble
up from the deep, dark abysses of my mind and soon, my mind reverted to its
inceptive state. Similar thoughts of uncertainty and dilemma started to plague
my mind, as I approached the group. Scared of rejection, I was a bit cautious
at first; but soon the caution wore off and I actually started to enjoy myself.
Gradually over orientation week; concern, apprehension and all their relatives
were sent back home, as I quickly settled in and interacted ably with all my
orientation group mates.
Among the many important lessons that I learnt from
orientation week, the most important one was that the more stupid the
activities get, the more stronger the friendship gets and the more dirt you
gain on the person. You never know when it might come handy, you simply never
know. But in all seriousness, I have managed to surprise myself time and
again during the journey of orientation. Being an extroverted introvert leaning
towards being anti-social, it came to me as a shock when I took part in
voluntary interactions with people, involving genuine, standard conversions
that extended beyond five minutes.
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