My BSc Days at St. Francis College, Hyderabad

They tell you college is about the degree. The certificate you frame and hang on a wall. But if you ask me, my BSc at St. Francis College in Hyderabad was about everything that happened outside the frame.

It was about the smell of formalin in the microbiology lab at 8 AM, a scent so sharp it could wake the dead—or at least, a sleep-deprived zoology student like me. It was about the particular shade of dusty yellow that the old Osmania University-affiliated buildings turned into during the golden hour. But mostly, it was about the frantic search for a single, empty chair in the library during finals, a quest more competitive than any viva.

I remember walking into my first Genetics class, feeling like a complete impostor. The professor, Dr. Rao, was a legend. He didn’t just talk about DNA; he spoke of it like it was poetry, a code that held the universe’s secrets. I was lost until he drew a ridiculously simple punnet square on the board and said, “See? It’s just probability. Don’t let the big words scare you. Science is just organized curiosity.” That stuck with me. It wasn’t about memorizing; it was about understanding the why.

And the labs! Oh, the labs were a special kind of chaos. My friend Priya and I were lab partners for three years. Our first attempt at staining onion root tips for mitosis was a spectacular failure. We ended up with a purple smear that looked more like modern art than a scientific specimen. We laughed until we cried, sitting on the high stools, surrounded by microscopes. But the day we finally saw those perfect, crisp chromosomes lined up—prophase, metaphase, anaphase—it was like magic. We high-fived right there, our small victory echoing in the silent, focused room. That’s where you really learn: in the failed experiments and the shared frustrations.

But a Hyderabad college experience is incomplete without the city itself. Our saving grace was the tiny Irani café just a stone's throw from the college gate. For the price of ten rupees, you could get a glass of milky, sweet Irani chai that had the power to solve all problems. It was there, over lukewarm tea and Osmania biscuits, that we’d decompress. We’d complain about impossible assignments, dissect the latest lecture, and dream big, impractical dreams about curing diseases and winning Nobel Prizes. The air was thick with the smell of tea and ambition.

The pressure was real, of course. The rankings that placed our college so high nationally weren’t just numbers; they were a vibe. You felt it in the library, where seniors huddled over textbooks, creating a palpable sense of purpose. You felt it when companies like Biocon and Dr. Reddy’s came for placements, and you saw your brilliant seniors bag impressive jobs. It made you want to be better.

Looking back, the degree at the popular BSc colleges in Hyderabad was just the ticket. The real education was in the shared silence of the library, the triumphant shout in the lab, and the comforting clink of teacups at that dusty cafe. St. Francis, and Hyderabad itself, didn’t just teach me science. It taught me about resilience, friendship, and the simple joy of finding answers—both in a textbook and in a conversation with a friend. Those days are long gone, but the smell of old books and Irani chai? That, I carry with me everywhere.