The CIRS Effect

The end of September in CIRS officially heralds the three months that treat academics as an optional activity. October brings Anand Utsav and the insane amount of preparation that goes into it, while November disappears in the flurry of Masquerades. Naturally, you would assume these are the three favorite months of every CIRS student, and I am no exception. Three years ago, however, it was a very different picture. The onset of October was my worst nightmare.

Eighth-grade me spent every hour of every day either studying or cracking jokes about everything under the sun, and I was expecting the usual routine: eat, sleep, have fun till 8th, study in the 9th and 10th, leave, study in some college, and find a job. I didn’t act, I didn’t sing, I didn’t dance, I didn’t have any innate skill to be proud of. All that led to my believing that I was destined to be a gray character in the crowd. In hindsight, who I used to be was a gray character not because of a lack of talent, but a lack of vision. I believed I would never be great, but neither did I want to be. I did not have dreams, aspirations, goals; I was simply drifting.

I walked into ninth grade not knowing I would walk out forever changed. The first challenge I faced came disguised as privilege: I joined Vanguard assuming we’d do a few activities in the name of learning and emerge the same. What I didn’t anticipate was all that would be expected of me. I was expected to actually put effort into improvement, to want to become better, and to be willing to work for it. It was only once this passivity had been eradicated that I began to look around me for things to learn, things to be passionate about.

My savior came in the form of The Crossroads, one of the major reasons I am able in any way to write this today. Finding my forte in writing propelled my confidence by leagues. I had finally found something that I loved, something I could excel at. It gave me the voice I had never had: though I was outspoken, I was never confident in what I was saying. My passion and flair for writing were a large part of the identity I was discovering: my writing gave me an avenue to focus my goals, improve my literary skills, and expand my knowledge of the world. And it led to opening doors that had earlier remained elusive. Another doorway to who I am now was becoming Cultural Secretary in Grade 9, which exposed me further to history through research for culture talks, initiation into the world of CIRS theater, to literature of various kinds, and conversations that enriched my life. It’s those experiences that made me who I am today.

Once you read this, you might believe that it was writing that changed me. It’s a misconception I had for a long time as well; but what really caused all this was the institution that allowed me to discover it. The place that made me take up things I’d never done before, that forced me to try my best at them. It is to every event, every word, and every person that I have known in CIRS that I owe this transformation to. They have given me what they give every student who is fortunate enough to step here. I was lucky CIRS gave me an extra nudge. When I look back now, I don’t see the exact point where the lights began to appear, I’m simply grateful that they did.