An old one again. Had written this a few years ago, when I graduated from the WE program. It was a women engineer's program by (at the time) NSE TalentSprint and Google. It was shutdown last year, since DEI initiatives went out of style. But the program had a very positive impact on my life, and the lives of many others. And the fact that it even was at some point a real force is a good thing. So, onto the good thing.

A few months ago, I graduated from the WE Program. To celebrate this, we were all called to Hyderabad for the ceremony. Though excited at the prospect of travelling, I was still bone deep sad that the program was ending. I really don’t know where the two years went, between early morning sessions, group discussions and last minute presentations. I was particularly not prepared for this, since I was the only one from the cohort attending optional classes meant for the next cohort. I was doing the most I could to stretch the experience for as long as I could, even artificially. It was because I was deathly afraid of who I would be without the program.

Asokan once jokingly called his early morning sessions a drug. But it’s true. They were actually that good. Towards the end, the structure became extremely free flowing. Our machine learning classes had pretty much run out of material, when Asokan had the idea to ask us to present on the topic. After that, it was pretty much a changed class. Since we weren’t restricted in what we could present on, the topics covered an extremely broad range. Matrix multiplication, quantum mechanics, first person RPG shooters, you name it. And it was a thrill.

In the back of my head, to know I would now lose out on such experiences made me so sad, I did not even process it. Kept focusing on how excited I was to travel to Hyderabad and have some great Osmania biscuits again. I was basically deluding myself into thinking it wasn’t really over, since we had a handful of Machine Learning sessions remaining. But life has its ways. I reached Hyderabad, sleep deprived and excited.

Our graduation ceremony started with a Spoorthy hosting. She is our cohort’s program manager and has been guiding us for two years now. She was as charming and captivating as the first day I had spoken to her. All of our mentors made a few speeches, including the program managers from Google. Then the real kick came. Spoorthy mentioned that some of us would be called to speak on stage, at random. There are, I think, many parts in all of us, often conflicting. There is a part of me that loves the spotlight. I love making grand speeches that I imagine will dazzle everyone. The keyword here is imagine. In reality, I often fumble, misstep and am incapable of expressing my thoughts clearly. Still, I hoped to speak, but did not really expect it would happen. Besides, it was more than enough to listen to the others. Sincerely wanting to hear their stories, I decided to settle in for the afternoon, happy to just cheer them along.

My friend Kanchan was called to speak. She got up from her seat and almost leaped to the front. She’s a great dancer too, which really shows in her body movement. She came, and spoke clearly, eloquently and passionately. A bright smile on her face the whole time, even as she described the troubles she faced. It was so good that I was fully convinced that it was pre-planned. As the thought settled in me, I thought oh, I haven’t been asked to speak. The disappointment seeped in for a few seconds, but then I realised that I was more than happy to listen.

Big mistake. This was, as a matter of fact, completely wrong. After a few more of my friends spoke, Spoorthy mentioned the previous article I wrote and called me to the stage. I was so stunned and unprepared, I got up from my seat and started fiddling with my purse and jacket. Somehow I made it to the stage and just knew this wasn’t going to end well. Already the tears had been bubbling up, and now I was completely vulnerable. But I wanted to say something, so I decided to just push through. It took me a few moments to collect myself. A lot of awkward silence and loud mic breaths. Some words came out about how much the program meant to me, how much I was not prepared to leave. Spoke about what it meant to me that I had such a good support network for these two years. That before the program, I thought life followed one track only. But I have now learnt that you do not have to be limited to the one road visible to you. Different, better things are possible. There is always more road ahead.

The tears took over at this point, and I ran to the washroom. Composed myself to the best of my abilities and stepped out again. When I came back, my friends were all smiling at me. They patted me on the back and graciously (thankfully) offered me some tissue papers. That was needed, really needed, throughout the afternoon. The main pipe had been broken, and there was no patching it soon. Thankfully many more people spoke much more coherently after.

It was wonderful to hear from everyone of my cohort mates, almost all of whom have incredible stories to tell. One person wanted to be an Astronaut, and has now done research work in the domain, even gone to Paris for a conference. One person can speak 12 languages. Almost all of them have internships in huge companies such as Google, Microsoft and other giants. Everyone had a different reason for loving being in the program, from the sense of community to the constant mentorship. That’s how you know it’s good. A few people came after to say that they also started crying when I did. Instantly, I thought they were lying to console me. Either way, it was a nice thing to say.

To reframe my speech a bit, I would like to say that it is actually now that I think that my path in life is predetermined. I was a very wide eyed kid that thought she could chart out a unique path for herself. That was before college. Now, I see everyone following a path, and I get in line much quicker than I would expect. The program did thankfully give me some space to try different things. The mentors compelled me to compose myself. Their presence demanded it from me. It’s as if disjoint parts of myself came together to form a single line. And it is precisely that good influence that I will miss. But the fact that I felt the influence at all, perhaps that is good enough.