BMS — Bonds, Mistakes, Stories

 

Welcome to My Wayward Musings. 

There are chapters in life that might not start on the brightest page, but by the end, they shine the most. My years in senior college ... persuing the Bachelors in Management Studies (BMS) course in Mumbai ,were exactly that.

We were the first batch. .... the guinea pigs of a new course.. The curriculum was still in its infancy, professors were experimenting, and we students were pretty much figuring things out as we went. In our First Year, we even had to study Final Year BCom Law — a syllabus misfit but somehow part of our academic trail. Textbooks were often unavailable, so photocopies became our best friends. I still remember how we scanned the city to find the cheapest xerox shop — finally settling on one in Chembur offering copies at 25 paise each. Imagine this: Home in Malad, college in Bandra, and photocopy bhaiya in Chembur. Absolute madness. But it was our madness.

We had our own quirky moments. I still remember how Economics lectures made me unbearably sleepy — and as luck would have it, the professor for the subject was none other than our college principal. To make things harder, we weren’t allowed to take notes while he spoke. No notes meant no doodles — and no doodles meant zero distractions for my already wandering, drowsy brain. I tried everything: pinching my own hand, wiping my face with a cold, wet handkerchief — nothing worked!

One day my friend and I decide to bunk the lecture altogether. There were two exits from our floor. One was the usual path everyone took, and the other rarely used was the one that passed the boys' washroom. For obvious reasons, no one ever chose that route. But we figured it was our best shot.

So right after the previous lecture, we made a run for it down the stairs — only to bump straight into the principal himself.

He looked at us calmly and asked, “Where are you going?”

Caught off guard, I blurted out, “To the washroom, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow, looked at my bag and umbrella still hanging from my shoulder, and then pointed at the boys’ washroom, “With all this? And to this washroom?”

All he said after that was, “Come back to class.”

We turned around silently — no arguments, no clever excuses and walked back to our seats, completely busted

Unlike the BCom, Arts, or Science streams, our batch was a single tight-knit division. That meant we shared everything, from class cricket accidents to new friendships, blossoming romances, and of course, inevitable breakups. We were all thrown together into this uncertain new course ...and unknowingly, into each other’s lives.

Over time, everyone in class seemed to fall into a category — the beauty with brains, the only-good lookers, the only-studiers, the smart talkers, the rich and well-dressed, and of course, the absolute badasses who somehow had their own aura.

I however, belonged to the invisible category. The one with a red acne-prone face, skinny frame, and average grades. I battled stage fear and got teased for it too. In fact, on the final day of college, some classmates “awarded” me as the person who made the funniest faces while presenting. Funny now, but painful then.

I remember one boy I considered a friend bluntly telling me that he was only friends with me to get closer to another friend of mine ...someone, of course, more conventionally attractive. . Another time, a guy held a grudge against me for advising my friend (his crush) to follow her heart — and not him. His revenge? Inviting me for a fake job interview post-college. I dressed up, prepared, travelled… and realised it was a lie.

That cruel incident marked the end of my BMS chapter.

But time, as they say, has its own plans.

Though the journey wasn’t smooth, BMS shaped me, professionally and personally. It laid the stepping stones for growth I hadn’t yet imagined. Ironically, the classmates I wasn’t very close to back then have now become my lifelong friends. 

Paths crossed again — through reunions, weddings, and even spontaneous holidays. From cosy stayovers in London to a warm reunion at a friend’s home in Mauritius, from a friend who is also a trusted client of my startup to another who’s stood by me through every high and low. From a Dubaiwali friend who makes it a point to meet whenever she’s in town, to a busy Mumbaiwali friend with whom every rare conversation feels like a warm reset — these friendships have become the quiet anchors in my life.

And whenever we meet, however rarely, it feels like slipping into oldest, comfiest T-shirt. There’s no judgement, no pressure to impress, no worry about how I look or what I wear. With them, I am the most unfiltered, comfortable version of myself — something I craved back in college.

And so, what started as an uncertain journey with photocopies, stage fright, and rejection, has slowly blossomed into a beautiful one, filled with connections that stood the test of time.

If I had to go back... red face, nervous voice, long bus rides and all. I wouldn’t change a thing.

Because somewhere between the xerox shops and economics lectures……, I found my forever people.

-Sharon

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