You’re 19. CLAT results come out today and you will finally find out what your future looks like in just a few short hours. Against all odds, against everything you knew yourself to be, you actually managed to sit down and work hard these last few months. Your friend had made it to NUJS the year before and you’re hopeful it works out for you as well. You’d never admit it but you secretly believe you’re just a tad bit smarter than your friend. It’s time, someone just messaged you that the results are out. Your heart’s beating faster than you ever remember it beating.
You didn’t get the rank you were sure you were going to get. Your friend did and now they’re going to NLUJ and you’re going to a “Tier 2" NLU. You’ve tasted disappointment yet again — but it is worse this time. This time, you actually really did work hard and yet, it didn’t work out. And there’s nothing you can do. There is nothing you can do. It’s not all bad though. A few weeks later you’re convinced you did well enough. You’ll be fine, you think. Life has finally just begun.

You’re 22. You’re in third year of law school. You’re in your room. You haven’t done much today but yet, you feel tired. You haven’t really done much this whole past week, to be honest. And yet. Your friends are planning to buy beer and keep calling you to come join them, but of course you won’t go. You really do like your friends but not tonight. You’d rather just lie down and stare at the ceiling tonight. Wonder about a million different things and yet nothing at all. You wonder if you’re wasting your life away. People you know tangentially have been mooting and debating and interning, things you’ve been told you’re 'supposed to be doing’. You really would rather not, though. You’ve never really understood the point of mooting and you did try your hand at debating that one time just to impress that cute girl in your batch — that didn’t work out so neither did your brief debating career. You’ll be fine, you think. It’ll be okay. There’s still some time. You’ll figure it out. You’ll be okay.

You’re 24. You’re in fifth year. It’s serious now. They’re asking you to wear your nicest blazer and tie and get your photo clicked for the class placement brochure. You don’t get the point of that — everyone knows nobody really hires from your NLU. But you do it anyway, and so does your entire batch. A friend tells you about that one guy you were briefly friends with for a month in first year four years ago being placed at AZB. That gives you pause. You think about all those times you crossed him in the hall as you slowly drifted apart through the years. He’s a smart kid, you think. Good for him. Yet, you’re afraid for yourself. Deep down, you know you’re not good enough for a firm that fancy. You wonder if you’ll ever be. You’re once again reminded that there are no guarantees in life. For a brief moment, you’re 19 again — staring at that computer screen that told you where your life would go. The photographer’s loud flash brings you back to the present, but not before capturing how you feel about an uncertain future.

It’s the last day of law school. This campus you’ve cursed and raved and ranted about for half a decade is suddenly asking you to leave, to venture out into the vast unknown, to make space for another batch of young, inquisitive kids with bright eyes and brighter futures. It’s time. The real world awaits. You tread slowly towards it.

You’re 27. You’re fat now, but that’s okay. You met someone and they’re great. You’re really looking forward to a future with them. You’ve changed two jobs in the past two years and work 13 hour days. Your first boss wouldn’t win any prizes for being a good person but that’s okay, you’re in a much better place now. You don’t make a lot of money but you’re happy with your work and so is your boss, you think. Somehow, you know you have it good. Somehow, you know it won’t last.

Maybe it will.

You’re 32 —