I stood there the whole time, aware that I was not anymore welcome, keeping my distance because I am now an outsider who has no stake whatsoever in the exercise. From where I stood, every act appeared obligatory—the clapping of hands, the cheers from the different departments of the university, the smiles from students who still recognize me, the speeches (funny how I also had my share of delivering a speech, in fact, one of the chummiest speeches ever heard in that auditorium), the pictures of my former professors who hold offices projected on both walls of the stage, the powers that-be of the university sitting like your traditional politicians on stage, the traditional boisterous welcome given to the freshmen by radical student activists (an act that has lost its significance and meaning a long time ago, but is continually done because not staging a protest in the most opportune time means acceptance of defeat, something radical student activists have yet to fully understand.), and the suffocating air in the enclosed hall.
I stood there trying to figure out reasons for staying but I found none. Finally, I’ve come to a realization that most choices do not have fall-back system, no safety nets, no return tickets. Until that time it has not stricken me that I am on my own.