The same syllabus is just a list of ingredients, yaar — what differs is the fire it’s cooked on. In one college, it’s just gas, efficient and cold. In another, an old wood stove that smokes and makes you wait, but the warmth stays in the food. I took the efficient degree, and for twenty years I just read meters, while my batchmate from that ragged hill-college learned to listen to the hum of the lines and the stories they carried. What does not differ, sadly, is the paper they give you at the end — it frames the same empty certificate.
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