Bawana land

On 9 days out of 10, DTU is a miserable place to be in.

The stretch from Rohini to Bawana feels longer than it should. You spend 15 minutes crawling through traffic only to realize you’ve forgotten your ID card at home. Now you’re either digging through your phone for a PDF copy or trying to convince the guards that you’re here to attend class, not overthrow the government.

It’s 42 degrees outside, and somehow your department has decided to schedule classes in the Civil Building. The fans are decorative, the classrooms are ovens, and your skills suddenly feel as useful as they do during placement season.

You walk to HPMC for a plum juice, only to discover it’s out of stock. Again. Its inventory management is somehow more unpredictable than CUMS DTU.

You settle near Amul with a book, hoping for a quiet hour. Five minutes later, someone sits down, and what begins as a casual conversation turns into a full-fledged rant about life, grades, internships, relationships, and the inevitable downfall of civilization.

You reach your next class ten minutes late. The professor welcomes you with a lecture so monotonous that even a typical Bollywood remake feels experimental in comparison.

There are no signs of happiness. Only fungus in your aloo patty, coolers without water, dogs trying to steal your cheese corn sandwich, and random strangers asking for a sip of your iced tea at Nescafé.

But then comes that 10th day.

That random conversation near Amul suddenly means something.

You get the shortlist you’ve been waiting for.

Your friends decide to skip classes and drive to Murthal for paranthas.

The evening stretches longer than expected.

Three beers down at Badli, you begin to understand the strange dichotomy of DTU.

For every “IIT Bawana” joke, there’s someone quietly building a future for themselves.

For every heartbreak, there’s a new Bumble match.

For every person complaining about the place, there’s someone who genuinely loves it.

And somewhere along the way, you realize it isn’t that bad.

You take a walk around OAT with a coffee in hand.

You sit outside Pragya Bhawan for no reason at all.

You chase peacocks near the Workshop.

The campus slows down.

And for a brief moment, everything feels exactly the way it should.

That’s when you realize that, despite all its flaws, there isn’t another place you’d rather be.

For that 10th day alone, I’d live these six semesters a thousand times over.

Jokes aside though, Midsems nahi dene dobara.