Four years ago, we were called the “COVID batch.” In 2021, classes began not with the buzz of campus corridors but with screens lighting up faces from different cities, each of us trying to carve a college life out of patchy Wi-Fi and muted microphones. It felt strange, almost anticlimactic, to begin a creative journey inside the same walls where we had spent our lockdowns. Yet, in hindsight, maybe that’s where the resilience began.
Learning to Speak Design
In February 2022, I finally stepped into the NIFT Bengaluru campus. The gates felt larger than life, and I walked in wide-eyed, notebook in hand, half-expecting that one day I’d walk out transformed. What I didn’t know then was that transformation doesn’t arrive with fireworks, it seeps in quietly. It’s in the late nights when ideas collapse and rebuild themselves, in critique sessions that sting before they teach, and in the strange magic of seeing a sketch on paper turn into something alive on screen.
Back then, design was a word I admired. Today, it feels like a language I speak. Not fluently, perhaps, but enough to know its rhythms and its silences. Enough to know when to trust instinct, when to edit ruthlessly, and when to let an idea breathe.
The journey wasn’t just assignments and grades. It was professors who refused to let me settle for “good enough”. Thank you to Nithya Venkataraman, Dr. Mohan Kumar V. K., Yashodha Kumari V, Shelly Jain Bandari, Nilanjana Bairagi, Mr. Sonjib Bora, and Imran Shah, didn’t just shape my understanding of design; you taught me rigor, resilience, and how to see beyond the obvious.
Beyond the Classroom Walls
Outside classrooms, design took on new shapes. At Niti AI and OnFinance AI, I saw how interfaces could transform fintech into something human. At INKPPT, I explored the power of storytelling made visual. At Lovable Sport, I learned how playfulness could sit alongside performance. Each internship was a world in itself, Whatfix taught me about scale, Stylumia showed me how data and creativity can collide, Dimerse India pulled me into immersive experiences, and Adymize proved that design isn’t just aesthetic; it’s strategy.
These weren’t just lines added to a resume. Each experience rewired me a little: how I see problems, how I listen, how I collaborate. And the people I met along the way, with their wisdom, candor, and generosity, became as much a part of my design education as any classroom.
The Messy Middle Nobody Sees
But behind the projects and portfolios, there was the quieter, messier side of the journey. The frantic sketches that never saw daylight. The hundred second-guesses before sending out a presentation. The 2 AM pep talks from friends who were also drowning in deadlines. To my circle, thank you for the chai breaks, the false promises of “just five more minutes,” and the laughter that carried us through the fatigue. To my family whom I would love thank for being the quiet confidence that steadied me whenever doubt got louder.
Looking back, I wouldn’t change the chaos for calm. The pressure, the pivots, the process: it all added up, not just to a portfolio, but to a perspective. A way of seeing the world differently, noticing details, understanding people, and believing that design is never finished, only evolving. And maybe that’s what graduation really is. Not just a certificate or a degree, but the moment you realize you’re stepping into the world not just as a student of design, but as someone who can use it to shape stories, systems, and experiences.
