Reflections from Senior Year

Now that it’s time to say goodbye, I can’t help but think how the four years that went by were nothing less than a blissful trance.

  • Habib taught me to be sensitive and empathetic

When I started Habib, I did not know how to make small conversations, how to quickly reply to a hundred “how are you’s” while walking down the corridor, how to make friends, or how to accept help. But, with time, the long corridors started to feel like home and our tightly-knit community became my second family. Habib taught me to accept help when I need it and offer it whenever I could help. It taught me to be sensitive, empathetic, fierce, and kind. It made me feel excited about life and what’s yet to come.

  • Habib felt like home

Saying goodbye to a place that felt like home is one of the hardest things I have to do. And, despite the fact that I have been preparing myself for it since the minute final year started in August, I haven’t found a way to say farewell. Because what do you do when a long day comes to an eventual end but you can’t find your friends and sit on the courts with a warm box of Rahim Bhai’s fries? And what do you do when you want to placate yourself away from the buzz of the world but there is no Zen Garden to stroll off to? And what do you do when you need to hear kind words but there is no familiar face around you in the info commons?

  • Habib offered me a kind community

People say we are living in a bubble. But, I disagree. Habib’s people have curated a community that functions on boundless empathy and kindness. We are not afraid to show our vulnerabilities, and that allowed us to become our truest selves. Habib allowed me to accept myself for who I am, and accept people for who they are. And, if everyone could mirror this, the world would become a better place.

I will miss Habib. And my friends. All of them— the seniors who always had my back and the juniors who were always willing to learn. I will miss my CND batch of 2022 and my “Cometocourts” group the most that would always converge at the end of the day.

  • Habib’s professors are more than just professors; they’re friends

More than anything, I will miss my professors. Life makes sense when you have someone to hold your hand and shine the light on the path ahead. And, at Habib, I found the kindest adults in my professors, who become more than just instructors. They became my mentors, my friends, and my reminder to slow down without worrying about being left behind.

I will miss going into my professors’ offices at every minor inconvenience; sitting with them for hours and sharing enlightened conversations; I will miss Haya Fatima’s brightly lit office, catching Basharat Issa in the most random parts of the campus, small conversations with Taha Munir, soulful exchanges with Momin Zafar and Zahra Malkani, hearing life-changing advice from Manahil Huda and Zuha Siddiqui, hearing Nauman Naqvi’s comforting “beti”.

Habib has been my safe haven. Leaving isn’t easy. Habib University has been a home to me, and I am forever grateful for finding my way to it and its people.


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