The first Step

The First Step — 16th August 2010

“Good morning,” I whispered to myself as I opened my eyes at 5 a.m. on the 16th of August, 2010.
The room was quiet, the dawn faintly brushing its pale light across the window. It wasn’t just another morning — it was the morning that would mark the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

Today, I was to begin my engineering journey — a path that, in my heart, I believed would change everything. Life until then hadn’t been easy for me or my siblings. We were learning to swim through the tides of uncertainty, but somewhere deep inside, I had silently taken on the responsibility of making things right. That quiet sense of duty — the classic lower-middle-class resolve — was the fire that kept me moving.

I got up, washed away the remnants of sleep, and by 6:15 a.m., I was ready to leave the dormitory. The air outside carried the freshness of early morning mixed with the distant hum of waking city life. A short walk ahead stood Bhubaneshwar Railway Station, from where I had to board a bus to my college.

By the roadside, a small stall was already serving hot puri-sabji — the kind of simple, comforting breakfast that never failed to lift my spirits. I ate quietly, watching buses come and go, each one heading somewhere unknown. Soon, one arrived for my route. I boarded, paid ₹10, and found a window seat — a little joy that somehow made the journey feel special.

As the bus moved along the highway, I looked outside — trees rushing past, people hurrying to their morning routines, the golden sun slowly rising. Thoughts about life, my family, and the uncertain road ahead filled my mind. Each passing minute brought me closer to something new, something promising.

After about forty-five minutes, the bus stopped near the highway close to my college. I stepped down, shouldered my heavy bags, and began walking toward the campus. Halfway through the walk, I saw the main gate — a tall structure with the name of the college proudly displayed. I paused for a moment. That gate, to me, symbolized hope — the gateway between my past struggles and future dreams.

At the gate, the security guards took down my details and handed me a slip that read Old Boys’ Hostel. They asked me to meet the warden, Pradhan Sir. I walked ahead, and as I entered the main campus, my eyes widened — it was vast, green, and magnificent. I had never been inside such a large, beautiful campus before. It was a mix of pride, disbelief, and pure joy — I was now part of something that felt much bigger than me.

At the hostel, Pradhan Sir sat behind a wooden counter surrounded by students and parents. He handed me a slip marked Room 114 and said kindly, “If it doesn’t suit you, let me know — you can change.” I thanked him and walked toward my allotted room, the slip clutched like a tiny key to a new life.

The hostel had three wings on each floor, eight rooms in each wing, and four beds in every room. Mine was the last one down the corridor. When I stepped in, two boys were already there — one of them accompanied by his father. I greeted them. The boys introduced themselves as Rishi and Abhishek, both from Bokaro. The moment I heard that, a spark of familiarity warmed my heart — Bokaro was barely fifty kilometers from my hometown. It felt like destiny’s way of saying, you’re not alone here.

Abhishek quickly chose the window-side bed, Rishi nodded, and I quietly took what was left. I didn’t mind. My mind was elsewhere — it was filled with excitement for what was about to begin.

At around 10 a.m., the three of us, along with Abhishek's father, headed to the S.C. Bhadra Auditorium for the orientation. The hall was packed with new faces — nervous, curious, hopeful — the shared energy of hundreds of students stepping into the same uncertain future.

Our Chairman, Sanjib Sir, addressed us first, speaking about purpose, passion, and perseverance. Then followed Director K.C. Patro Sir, DSW Shruti Ranjan Sir, and the Heads of Departments — each word they spoke felt like a glimpse into the journey we were about to undertake.

After the speeches, we were divided into groups for a guided campus tour. From our department — Chemical Engineering — the professors leading us were Biswakant Pradhan Sir, Rakesh Mohanty Sir, and Ved Prakash Sir.

As I stepped out of the auditorium, a tall guy with a cheerful face walked up and said,
“Bhai, konsa branch hai tumhara? Main Debashish.”
I smiled, “Chemical Engineering.”
“Same here, bro,” he replied with a grin, “We’re friends now.”

That’s how I met Debashish, my first friend from the branch. Together, we roamed through the labs, the departments, and the Centre of Excellence, absorbing everything with wide-eyed wonder. By lunchtime, it already felt like we belonged there.

Later, Debashish left — he was a day scholar — and I returned to the hostel. As I was about to enter my wing, a boy in shorts and a t-shirt stopped me.

“What’s your name?” he asked, sternly.
“Abhishek,” I replied, casually. “And yours?”

He frowned. “Can’t you see I’m wearing half pants?”
I blinked, puzzled.
“I’m your senior, second year,” he clarified. “First years aren’t allowed to wear shorts.”

His tone sharpened. “You’ve got attitude, huh? I’ll see you soon. What’s your room number?”

“116,” I said quickly, and walked away, heart beating fast.

When Rishi and Abhishek returned, I narrated the whole incident, and we laughed nervously about it — it was, after all, part of hostel life’s unspoken initiation.

In the afternoon, Rishi along with Abhishek and his father went to Tamando, a nearby market, to get cotton mattresses made. I stayed back — I didn’t  join them. Sitting alone in the room, I looked out the window. The evening light was soft, the campus bathed in a golden hue. I remember thinking — so this is how it begins.

It had been quite a day — full of new faces, emotions, and experiences. My first day of engineering life — a small beginning of a long, uncertain, but hopeful journey.

That night, as I lay down on my bare cot, staring at the ceiling fan turning slowly above, I felt a strange peace. For the first time in years, I wasn’t running away from something — I was walking toward something.