Diary Entry of Freshers Gone Wavy

We at Cosmos present a heartfelt diary entry from Hamir Rathore — yes, the very one who has been playfully dubbed the reason behind the unforgettable Wavy freshers event. What went through his mind before, during and after the four days? How did it feel to see something you dreamed of come to life? Hamir shares his personal thoughts in a way you won’t want to miss.

26th April, 2024

Saturday

9:30 p.m.

Dear Diary,

Finally, a day to rest and pen down my thoughts. This week has been one of the most memorable chapters of my life, something I know will stay with me for years.

Finally, something I had wished for so long happened — the freshers’ event. All the persuasion, the waiting, the countless messages — it all found a beautiful meaning. Everyone still remembers the request on the common group. I had even become a small college celebrity, thanks to that one Instagram reel showing a popping message of me asking, “Sir, when is freshers happening?” It still makes me smile. What more could a first-year student fresh out of school have asked for?

Leaving school had been heavier than I had admitted. Even though I was excited for college life, there was a quiet emptiness too. I needed a hand to hold, a sign that I belonged. And Wavy was exactly that — a warm embrace from a new family.

Meeting new people, bonding with classmates I barely knew — it changed something in me. I realised how much we stay confined within classroom walls, never truly seeing the faces around us. The four days of the event opened all of us up. We weren’t just students anymore. We became friends, teammates, co-dreamers.

I think gatherings like these are not just celebrations. They are necessary. They help us step out of our own small bubbles. They teach us to belong, to trust, to share simple joys. For someone like me, who has always liked meeting new people but often found it hard to start, this was a blessing.

The days leading up to freshers were filled with a restless excitement. There was a bubbling curiosity in the air — what would the events be, what to wear, who would perform? The Mismatch Day was the perfect beginning. I still remember walking into college wearing a capri and a shirt — feeling absolutely ridiculous — and seeing someone dressed like a bodyguard. The laughter, the lightness of that day, stayed with me.

As freshers day drew closer, another kind of nervousness took over. The ‘ask-outs’ were around the corner and I, coming from a boys’ school, had absolutely no experience. I was shy and hesitant, but somehow my friends gave me the push I needed. Without them, I probably would have missed the chance.

Every day, dances broke out spontaneously near the facility area. The Wavy neon sign shining in the background seemed to pull us into a different world altogether, where worries faded and only music mattered. Karan Aujla’s Wavy wasn’t just a song playing in the background, it became the soul of those days.

I didn’t participate in the sports events, but I was there cheering as loud as anyone. My heart still swells when I think about the tug of war. I was part of the white team and even though the blue team won, the effort we all put in was electric. I remember gripping that rope, feeling every muscle scream, feeling the roar of my team behind me. For a moment, it didn’t matter who won or lost — it was raw, pure energy.

The food deserves its own memory. Chowmein and manchurian in the morning, paneer bhurji and gulab jamuns for sweets, and even ice creams — every meal felt like a small celebration. Sitting together, laughing over plates piled high, it felt like the simple joys of life were wrapped in those meals.

The traditional day was a breathtaking sight. College corridors were flooded with colours — lungis, rajasthani saffa, ghaghras, sarees with beautiful intricate designs. Every outfit spoke of a different place, a different culture. Even the DJ night brought the country together — songs from Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, Punjab, Gujarat — every beat reminding us of the diversity we carried within us.

And somewhere in all these moments, I changed. A few questions were asked and answered in my name during the fresher’s night — something that would have terrified me earlier. I didn’t have the courage for the ramp walk, but I can feel it — the shift inside. I feel a little braver now, a little more ready to be seen and heard.

I am thankful — truly thankful — to my seniors and my peers.

It is easy to think that memories just happen, but behind every beautiful day, there are people who care enough to make it happen. Be it lending a sock, finding flowers at the last minute or simply showing up with a smile — everyone was part of creating these days that now live inside me.

Sometimes I wonder — when it is our turn to host freshers, could we add even more? Maybe musical chairs, hide and seek, even simple games like passing the parcel. Maybe we will see when the time comes.

Even after all the festivities ended, after the music stopped and the decorations were taken down, a strange sadness lingered. It felt too soon. How could these days, so full of life, just end like that? For a moment, I wished time would slow down, let us hold onto it a little longer. A part of me still stands under the neon “Wavy” sign, surrounded by laughter, music and the smell of chowmein floating in the air.

Classes resumed. Schedules returned. Yet, something in me has shifted. I realise now that this is only the beginning. College life is not just about marksheets and semesters. It is about becoming part of something larger than yourself. It is about pushing open doors, meeting new souls, letting laughter echo louder than fear.

Today, when I think back to the moments when I asked, again and again, "Sir, when is freshers happening?" — I smile. I smile because somewhere, between a message and a memory, I found a home away from home.

The seniors gifted us more than an event. They gifted us belonging. They gifted us a tradition we now hold in our hands, ready to pass on one day with the same warmth.

These moments — they are stitched into my story now.

And whenever life feels heavy, I know I can simply close my eyes and return to that mahaul — mahaul pura wavy — where everything felt pure, endless and free.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author: Hamir Rathore