Echoes of Home — A reflection on my Stanford journey

The campus is a sprawling expanse of manicured lawns, yellow buildings and red roofs

A swelling sea of unfamiliar faces, surging with unleashed energy

A tempest of dreams, ambitions, and fervent hope

The first classmate I meet asks not my name, but the story behind it

And I’m forced to think of home when I was ten

The yellow-walled, red-roofed bungalow I grew up in in Karachi

Similarly awash with my aspirations, curiosity, and life-defining experiences

But this place…it feels nothing like home.

Staring absent-mindedly out of the classroom’s large glass windows

I notice the squirrels that leap into red-flowered vines

Pushing the bounds of possibility with a timid grace

As do I — accumulating a series of firsts, plunged out of my comfort zone

Embracing curiosity and the unknown like long-lost friends

My solitary stroll through Town Square transcends into bits of banter

The song on the speakers a familiar tune I had long forgotten.

The campus is alive with blooming wildflowers in every hue

Whispers of new beginnings carried by the gentle breeze

As the sun sets on the rolling hills beneath the Oval picnic, adorning the sky in splendor

As I bask in its final rays, filled with renewed purpose and achievement

Surrounded by friends emanating warmth, radiating color

Dazzling me with their colors, talents, hopes and fears

The air is filled with the cacophony of intense conversation and incessant laughter

This place is home, at least for now, for it fosters shared dreams and vibrant life.

Editor: Emy Makakalala