No no, I was the smarter one, at least that’s what they said growing up. But truthfully, if I had a blueprint for how to exist in this world, it was my older brother. Born in Assam, I entered life as the second child, but never the second priority, not in my house, not in my head. I looked up to him the way people look up at constellations: not just because they shine, but because they help you find your way.

He set the pace, and I followed, not to copy, but to match that energy, to live up to the same awe he made me feel. So yes, while I may have been dubbed “the smarter one” in report cards and parent-teacher meetings, everything I learned about showing up, staying grounded, and dreaming big, I learned by watching him first.

College? Yeah… getting into this college? Tragic comedy from my end. I’ll admit it. I thought it was a downgrade. I walked in with the audacity of someone who believed they were settling. Like, “Okay fine, I guess I’ll go here.” Cue eye roll, sigh, dramatic gaze into the void.

But little did I know. This place was fancier than I gave it credit for. People here? Brilliant. Like full-blown geniuses walking around in oversized hoodies and casually solving things I’d Google. It was giving “oops I misjudged, now I’m in awe.” Suddenly I wasn’t the smartest person in the room (rude), and for once, I was okay with it. It humbled me in the best way possible. Through late-night study marathons, emotional meltdowns over deadlines and people, I somehow got everything I wanted. Learned stuff that made me feel smarter than my teenage self ever dreamed of, made friends I now refer to as “chosen family,” and turned moments of total confusion into “core memories.”