Once Appa parked the car neatly in the parking lot, we all got out and started unloading the luggage. My large trolley bag, the carton box with all the organisers, the laundry basket — everything looked a little heavier under the morning sun. Appa carried the heavier stuff, Amma took the carton, and Santhosh tried to drag my smaller backpack with all his might.
We made our way towards the reception area, where they checked luggage for all new students. The line wasn't very long, but there was a kind of nervous energy in the air. Girls standing with their parents, talking in hushed voices, aunties giving last-minute advice, fathers making serious faces like they were dropping someone off at war.
When it was my turn, I quickly opened my bags as the warden instructed. They were mainly checking if anyone had brought non-vegetarian food, plug-in electronics like kettles or induction stoves, or any sharp objects. I was so relieved that I already knew the rules from my past life. Every single gadget I had brought — from my study lamp to my alarm clock — was battery operated, no plug, no problem.
The warden gave a brief nod after checking, ticking off something on her list."Clean," she said, and that was that.
After that, they checked our room assignments. In our hostel, we didn't call it a "room" exactly. Each bay — a long hall separated by cubicle-style partitions, commonly called a "cabin" with 2 people in one area— had space for 38 students and two staff members who stayed in small rooms attached to the bay. My assigned bay was G-2 — Girls' Second Bay.
Appa and Amma listened carefully as they explained. Parents could visit the hostel today, but since it was a girls' hostel, only mothers were allowed inside the actual girls' floors. Fathers could check out the ground floor, which was for boys. Conveniently, the boys' and girls' bays were designed exactly the same way, so parents could understand the layout even if they couldn't climb upstairs.
Appa seemed a little disappointed but didn't argue. He was always respectful about these rules.
After finishing all formalities, we started walking towards the hostel blocks, about 700 meters away from the school building. The road was shaded with trees on either side, and as we walked, I felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness swirling inside me.
First came the Boys' Hostel block. It was painted in cheerful cream and yellow colors, with large windows and balconies on each floor. The ground floor was buzzing with activity — boys dragging their bags, parents carrying mattresses, hostel staff directing everyone.
We walked through the entrance. The boys' bays were open, some already filled with students arranging their things. It was a bit chaotic — trunks open, clothes scattered, parents instructing, boys running around excitedly. A low hum of chatter filled the corridors.
As we walked further, my eyes caught the layout properly. From the corridor, once you entered through the bay door, there was a long, straight passage with cupboards lined up neatly on either side—twenty cupboards on each side. At the very end of the corridor, past all the cupboards, was the door leading to the bathroom area.
Behind the cupboards, you could see the cots. Each section — almost like a mini-cabin — had two cots placed facing opposite directions. Every cabin was equipped with one tubelight and a shared ceiling fan. I noticed a few cabins had a central AC too, not individual units, but placed in a way that cooled around five or six cots nearby.
It wasn't exactly private, though. Apart from the very first cabin on the left, which was fully enclosed, all the other cots were only separated by cardboard partitions. The partitions were around five feet tall — just about enough for seated privacy, but if you stood up, you could easily see everyone's heads bobbing around. I smiled. It was going to be an interesting experience living like this.
We moved to the girls' block next. My bay, G-2, was on the first floor. The ground floor was still the boys' hostel, so Appa stayed downstairs while Amma, Santhosh, and I went up. Amma was glad that at least the first floor was exclusively for girls. "Safer," she whispered as we climbed the stairs.
The bay door to G-2 opened and once again, the familiar layout unfolded — the same long line of cupboards, the same tiny cubicles behind them, and the same whirring sound of fans and low conversation. A few girls had already arrived and were unpacking, laughing among themselves.
One of the staff members, a senior warden aunty, came up to me and said, "You can choose your cot."
That caught me by surprise. I thought everything would already be assigned, but apparently not. Choosing was allowed — first come, first served.
I immediately glanced around. I didn't want a cot too close to the bathrooms — the noise and occasional smell could be disturbing. I didn't want a cot right at the entrance either — too much traffic. I wanted a spot that felt balanced.
After a quick scan, I spotted a cabin right at the centre of the bay — not too far from the main door, but not near the bathrooms either. And the best part? It had a central AC vent nearby, so the airflow would reach there nicely.
"This one!" I called out to Amma, setting my trolley down in one of the two empty cots in that cabin.
Santhosh came running in and peeped around the partition. "Your place looks cool, akka!" he said, grinning. He meant it both literally and figuratively, I think.
I looked around my new cabin space properly for the first time. It was compact but thoughtfully planned. Each cabin had a window in the center area, letting in a soft stream of sunlight and a bit of breeze. Right now, the window frame was empty, but I smiled, already thinking of how I could arrange it neatly — maybe keep my water bottle there, a box of tissues, and a small alarm clock. It would double up as a little shelf since storage space here was definitely limited.
There were no extra shelves on the walls. Only the cupboard stood tall next to the bed, sturdy and plain. I opened it fully to inspect. Inside, there were two long shelves at the bottom, a rectangular space with a rod meant for hanging clothes, and three smaller cubby-like shelves on right top. It was simple but enough — if organized properly.
Above the cupboard, there was a flat top space where I could place my big trolley after unpacking. Under the bed, it was completely open — a good place to push my laundry basket and carton neatly out of sight.
"The organizers are coming to school now," I said, noticing a few senior students walking briskly down the corridor, clipboard in hand. They were the ones responsible for making sure check-in was smooth and everyone settled properly.
Amma, noticing that time was running fast, immediately got to work with me.
"Let's arrange everything before they come for inspection," she said.
We opened the trolley, and the smell of fresh clothes and detergent spilled out. Amma knelt beside me, folding and stacking my dresses with the precision only mothers have. She handed me the soft cotton kurtas first.
"We'll keep all your dresses in this large space," she decided, stacking the neatly folded clothes into the biggest section of the cupboard. "Easy to take out and put back."
I nodded. "And the hanging space?" I asked, touching the metal rod inside the cupboard thoughtfully.
"I'll leave it empty for now," I said quickly. "Only for my school uniforms and school bag later. I'll need that free when school starts."
Amma gave an approving nod.
Then we moved on to the small shelves. We divided them smartly:
One small shelf for toiletries — my shampoo, face wash, toothpaste, soap, hair oil, comb, and spare sanitary pads.
One shelf became my food shelf — neatly tucking in packets of biscuits, dry fruits, a few instant mixes, and some chocolates Amma had packed lovingly.
One shelf turned into my "storeroom" — for books, extra notebooks, stationeries, and other random items I didn't need every day.
Slowly, the cupboard started looking organized. Everything had a place. Everything felt controlled.
The laundry basket and the carton with the extra organizers were both pushed neatly under the bed. I made sure they wouldn't stick out or look messy. The hostel had strict rules about neatness — every Saturday, inspections would happen without warning. It was better to start right.
Meanwhile, Santhosh had gotten bored and was hopping around, poking his head inside random cabins, laughing at the new girls who were struggling with their trolley wheels or lost keys. Appa stood outside the bay, chatting with another parent, exchanging the usual nervous smiles that parents had on the first day of hostel life.
In my cabin, Amma wiped her forehead with her dupatta and smiled at our work.
"See, looks like you have lived here forever," she said fondly.
I laughed. "That's the idea. If I make it feel like home from day one, maybe it won't hurt too much later."
We both fell silent for a moment, realizing that yes, no matter how ready you are, the first goodbye always hurts a little.
I turned back to my window. I carefully placed my tissue box, my battery-operated lamp, and my water bottle in the small space next to the window grill. It wasn't much, but it already made the empty concrete space feel a little softer, a little more mine.
Behind me, Amma carefully checked again if all items were correctly placed inside the cupboard and under the bed.
"You packed well," she said, sounding proud. "Minimal. Organized. Good."
I smiled, a bit sheepishly. If only she knew how many hours I had spent at home planning the packing, making lists, checking rules, buying small organizers to make life easier here. It wasn't just a random plan — I had thought about every detail like a mission.
Slowly, students and parents around us were finishing up too. Some parents were getting emotional already, hugging their kids tightly. A few girls were sniffing into tissues, trying not to cry.
I wasn't going to cry yet. I promised myself I would stay strong at least until after lunch. After that... well, we would see.
As I finished placing the final organizer in my cupboard, I took one deep breath and turned to Amma.
"Done," I said, a little too brightly.
She ruffled my hair lightly, like she used to do when I was small.
And for a moment, standing there between the stacked cupboards, the buzzing fans, and the low hum of hostel life beginning, I really felt it — I was growing up. Right here, right now.