It was last year I decided that it was time to move to a different continent. I packed my bags in late September and flew to gloomy, windy Ireland. The reason for the big move was primarily higher education. I would be lying if I said that studying abroad had always been a goal of mine but I decided to give it a shot.

The Journey

Much to the surprise of my parents, I had secured a spot in an Mphil degree course. And I was delighted to move abroad, far away from the blistering Indian heat. Studying abroad has been largely demystified by various content creators. While one gets to leave the chaos that is India, one also gets stuck with doing unglamorous domestic chores.

Though I had developed a certain disdain for domestic labour pretty early in life, that is not what fazed me about my experience abroad. I would also be lying if I said that it was tough to make friends abroad since I ended up meeting my amazingly witty classmates that always looked out for each other. I wish I could ramble endlessly about culture shock (people really love their pints of Guinness) or the bureaucracy (mind numbingly tedious all across the globe) or something about the incident encouraging rampant individualism. I could write about personal growth and emotional resilience. I could write about being lulled by nostalgia but I choose not to. I was simply excited to live out what I had seen in normal people.

Diffused social hierarchy with professors

What actually took me by surprise is the seemingly diffused social hierarchy. I do not say that there’s absolutely no hierarchy between students and the professors but I would rather argue that this hierarchy isn’t in your face. It isn’t simply limited to addressing the professors using just their first name. It seemed to me that my professors were more approachable. I cannot exactly put a finger on it.

Coming from a culture that reveres teachers as Dronacharyas, a culture that has systematically kept women and the Dalit, adivasi population away from the threshold of higher education, I was not at all used to speaking my mind and putting reflexivity in practice. The divide is a lot starker back home. The sense of hierarchy coats the air in all Indian classrooms — the gurus (teachers) are not to be challenged and the shishya (students) shall always obey, and even more so as privatisation looms over us. There are increased efforts to tackle caste inside and outside universities but is it enough?

Ireland hasn’t been left untouched by neoliberal education policies either. Research scholars have time and again demanded that the government raise the PhD stipend for postgraduate students to a living wage. This can be quite off putting for people who want to pursue research degrees in the Emerald Isle. Even with all the challenges, the attitude of the professors made it worthwhile to pursue my degree.

Pangs of loneliness

There is an even bigger, almost humongous elephant in the room, loneliness. As I eased into my classes, turned my body to a different time zone, I was struck with pangs of loneliness. Prepared to battle seasonal affective disorder, armed with vitamin D pills, nothing could prepare me for the sense of disillusionment and abandonment I was about to feel. To say that I missed my friends and family would be a massive understatement.

Soon, I began to miss the hustle bustle and the flavours of India. I then decided to explore the free student counselling services provided by the university and while it did help for a while, nothing could fill the void in my heart. My sardonic outlook on life coupled with a dry sense of humour made it worse. I was always a click away from booking the first available flight home.

India and Ireland not too different

This is not an indictment of the Indian education system which continues to kill the hopes and dreams of the not so privileged (at least not intentionally). Nor is it a love letter to Ireland as it currently grapples with a terrible cost of living crisis (one can easily expect to shell out a cool grand to live in a shoebox), benevolent racism, and occasional bouts of xenophobic violence.

What I have experienced is hard to quantify or be articulated with precision. While, once I graduate later this year, I will surely miss the wonderful campus at Trinity College Dublin, the lively discussions and the amazing people I have met, I can safely say that I will not miss the unpredictable weather. India and Ireland are divided by geography but united by their disdain for all things English. There have been ups and downs, and moments of uncertainty in my journey to Ireland, all in all, a wild ride, but one I’m glad I took.

The author is pursuing an MPhil degree at Trinity College, Dublin.