In more ways than one, this piece marks the beginning of the end. I know I have poured a part of myself into reliving this PGPX journey through words, but as my time at IIM Ahmedabad draws to a close over the next seven days, there is an honest need to slow down, step back, and let these memories settle into their own quiet nostalgia.

What started as an attempt to document a year has become something far more personal: a way to process, to reflect, and to hold on, even if just a little longer. And perhaps now, the writing gives way to remembering. Thank you for being a part of this journey, and to everyone who found a piece of their own experience in these words.

Dear IIM Ahmedabad's D-3728,

As I race towards the end of this journey, I would be amiss if I did not mention the most important aspect of it, the one place where I have arguably spent the majority of my time on campus. It is the one space that has seen me go through almost every emotion known to humanity, and still quietly stayed constant through all the major and minor inconveniences of this year. It has been there through the long nights and longer days, absorbing everything without complaint.

It is also the place that will perhaps hold the most special place in my heart, because it has seen it all. It has seen me laugh uncontrollably, smile at the smallest wins, break down like a little child, curse in ways I probably should not admit, fall out of love, fall in love again, celebrate like nothing else mattered, and indulge in endless gossip depending entirely on which side of the bed I woke up on. In many ways, it was not just a room; it was a silent witness to a year that changed me.

As I sit in between packed boxes and unpacked clothes, I find myself remembering only the days that made me happy, quietly letting go of those that were never worth holding on to. I suppose that is the power of nostalgia: it softens the edges, edits the rough patches, and lets the good moments shine a little brighter.

I still remember the day I first entered the room, with my mother by my side, and what it meant to finally be a part of the famed red bricks. It was a moment I had imagined countless times, and yet, when it arrived, it felt both surreal and overwhelming. And D-3728 stood there quietly, as the very first witness to all those emotions: the excitement, the nervousness, the uncertainty, and the quiet hope with which I began this journey.

From arranging to rearranging my books and clothes to match the mood of the week, from solo movie nights with Subway sandwiches and Bhullar’s Dal Makhani Khichdi, to sharing those same moments with friends and someone special, D-3728 has quietly been there through it all. It has witnessed the laughter that filled the room on lighter days, the struggles that weighed heavy on others, and the countless sing-alongs to some of my all-time favourites (sometimes in tune, often not). It has seen conversations that stretched late into the night, silences that said more than words could, and days that blurred into each other without notice.

In many ways, it has been more than just a room. It has been a constant; holding space for everything this year brought with it, without ever asking for anything in return. Long after the year fades into memory, it is this quiet constancy that will remain: not as four walls, but as a feeling of having had a space that understood you, even in your silence.

As someone else prepares to take over this dorm room and make it their own, I can only hope that D-3728 is as kind to them as it has been to me, in more ways than one. May it give them the space to sit with their angst in peace, celebrate their joys openly, and always remain welcoming to anyone who walks in with warmth. May it hold their stories as gently as it held mine, through the chaos and the quiet alike.

And when they finally leave, I hope they walk away with even more memories than I did; the kind that stay with you long after the suitcases are packed and the doors are shut one last time. Memories of laughter that echoed late into the night, of quiet moments of reflection, of small victories that felt bigger than they should have, and of friendships that slowly turned this space into something far more meaningful than just four walls.

I hope they carry with them a piece of this room, just as I will, not in anything tangible, but in the way it shaped their days, held their thoughts, and quietly witnessed their journey.

May D-3728 continue to be an abode of happiness, comfort, and belonging. May it remain a safe space for chaos and calm alike, for ambition and vulnerability, for everything that makes the PGPX experience what it truly is. And may it continue to hold, year after year, the quintessential PGPX story that I have been fortunate enough to live.

D-3728: be kind and open to every emotion held within your four walls, and may you continue to be a safe space for anyone who calls you their own.

Regards.

P.S. I would be remiss if I did not also mention Dr. (soon-to-be Dr. Dr.) Saachi Matta, who became the de facto secondary resident of D-3728 in the second half of the PGPX journey. For the uninitiated, she is the special someone I have been alluding to across my previous pieces, and someone who, in more ways than one, added both charm and a fair bit of volume to the room, courtesy her unmistakable loud Punjabi energy.

As much as I would like to thank D-3728, I must also thank her, for the laughter, the occasional fights, the wonderfully senseless jokes, and the endless stream of Swiggy orders that turned the room into something far more than just a place to stay. With her around, D-3728 did not just feel like a room; it felt like home, in the truest, messiest, and most memorable sense of the word.