Ten years after leaving school crying, another chapter closes. With lots of memories and moments, we bid our BA LLB journey farewell.
Raqif Makhdoomi
Things begin to come to an end—that is the law of nature. Remember when we went to school for the first time? We cried. And when school ended, we cried again. We cried at the start because we didn’t want to be separated from our parents, and everything felt unfamiliar. We cried at the end because that place had become another home, and our classmates had become family. School endings come with tears of separation and the uncertainty of stepping into a new world.
Spending 10 to 15 years with people who become friends from strangers is no small thing. I still recall when my school life ended—I cried like a baby. Even without strong emotional ties to everyone, I couldn’t hold back the tears. I remember how we all tried to have as many conversations as we could, knowing life would never look the same again. It has been ten years since I left school, but I still remember that last day: it began with cutting a cake and ended with wiping each other’s tears.
Nonetheless, as I said, things end. That’s nature’s way. Some things end and are forgotten; others end to become memories. Just like my BA LLB degree—it didn’t end to be forgotten, but to be remembered.
I still remember the day I got selected. I was asleep. My mom was going through the newspaper when she saw the selection list for the BA LLB program and spotted my roll number. Out of excitement, she screamed, “Raqiffff, aapki selection ho gayi hai!” so loudly that I fell off my bed and came running to the kitchen, only to find everyone smiling. My whole family knew how badly I wanted to be a lawyer.
The first call I made was to my grandfather. He was so happy he couldn’t find the words. I wanted my grandmother (Nani) to be the first to know, but she had passed away a year before my selection. Had she been alive, she would have been the happiest. But who can challenge the decisions of Almighty Allah? We have only one option when it comes to His will: to accept it.
Next, I called my friend to tell him I was going to be an advocate. He said, “You’re our Jolly LLB,” and saved my contact with that name. My friends now call me “Jolly LLB” or “Oi Advocate.” My younger brother calls me “Advocate sahab” or just “Oi Advocate,” depending on his mood.
When I called that friend, I was on my way back from college after paying my fees. I told him, “Bro, you’ll be the one to help me earn money.” He asked, “How?” I said, “By handling your divorces.” He got agitated and said, “You really are Jolly LLB.”
That’s what happened outside college. Let’s revisit what happened inside.
When I first stepped into college, I had no idea I would find such good friends. My BA LLB journey was a rollercoaster. Our seniors came to ask our names and other details—we took it as ragging, and that marked the beginning of our tussle with them. Our clashes are no secret; at one point, they even made headlines and are still on YouTube. We didn’t just clash with our immediate seniors but with those in their final semester, too.
More than classroom memories, I remember the times spent in the college canteen and park. We had the best discussions there—often without any clear outcome.
I was never a “favourite” of any professor, male or female. I didn’t choose this degree to be anyone’s yes-man. I chose it to question the system, and I made sure to do that from day one.
Our college life was a mix of everything. Our fights were famous—we were known more for our clashes than our studies, though I’m not flexing, just stating facts. Even after serious fights, we’d be together again the next day. One of our favourite pastimes was knocking on classroom doors during lectures and running away. It was risky, but we loved it—and thankfully, we were never caught.
During this degree, my love life took shape too. Some stories reached a logical end, some broke apart, and some remained one-sided. The degree was a rollercoaster in every sense.
Some professors felt like friends; others refused to cooperate. We had no choice but to adjust.
I won’t remember this journey because of the college, but because of the people I met. I learned so much from them. One muscular guy taught me, “Even if you have the power to punch someone and knock them down, you can still sort things out with a conversation.” That’s a lesson I’ll carry for life.
As we leave, I hope everyone achieves what they aim for. Many of us will meet again in court; others may never cross paths again except by luck or chance. That’s how life is—connecting and disconnecting are all part of it.
Now, we step into the world of practical law, which demands hard work and brings many challenges. We’ll make new friends in court, and our new gossip spot will be the court canteen.
Raqif Makhdoomi is a law student
ra***************@***il.com