The joyful, relaxed days of Eid are drawing to a close, fellas. It’s time to pack your bags and brace yourself for the inevitable—back to dorm rooms, 8am lectures, exams, assignments, campus canteens, and that guilt-inducing to-do list you promised to start “after Eid.” Spoiler: it’s still untouched.
Eid holidays have never been just a break from university; rather, they’re a full emotional reset button. For many students, it’s one of those few occasions in the year when the house is full again and you ask yourself, can life be any better?
There’s something wonderfully amazing about waking up in your childhood room, knowing your mum has already made you breakfast, and your dad has been waiting with the morning newspaper. The smell of family, the comfort of not being anxious for classes and exams all the time, the noise of relatives’ kids—it’s hard to let go.
“I’m not really enjoying the reality check right now,” says Sheikh Saima, a fourth-year student at Sir Salimullah Medical College. “The thought of being busy all day and away from my family is already draining me. I really wish I could’ve stayed a bit longer.”
For Saima and many others like her, returning to the Jadur shohor doesn’t just mean resuming classes—it means saying goodbye to peace. Let’s rewind the dorm life: half-sleeping through morning alarms, barely managing time between classes and tuitions, and of course, surviving on hall er paatla daal and barely edible food that even Bear Grylls would politely refuse. Probably that’s why the comfort of Eid vacation feels so dreamy.
Kashmira Nahrin, an eighth-semester student at Bangladesh University of Professionals, shares how difficult it is to even plan for the return. “Because of our tight academic calendar, we barely get a long Eid vacation. But the worst part is booking the return ticket before even reaching home. It’s like a countdown starts the moment I arrive.”
She goes on, “Once I enter our house and see my parents, everything else fades. I meet my childhood friends, hug them like we’re still 12, and for a few days, I forget the pressure that’s waiting back in Dhaka. But the night before returning is the hardest part. I pray for time to stop. I used to think exam nights pass quickly—now I know the night before leaving home passes faster.”
And for many students, that emotional switch is jarring. “The moment I get on the bus, I cry. Quietly, without making a scene. Then, as soon as I step into my mess, I turn back into a machine—assignments, CTs, viva, presentations, tuition. Before bed, my favourite ritual is counting down the days until I can go back again.”
For others, the transition is less emotional but still not easy. Adnan Hasan, a third-year student at North South University, says, “Honestly, the break was enough this time. It felt well-balanced—plenty of time to enjoy before Eid, and enough space to rest afterwards. Since I don’t have any major exams coming up, I could finally relax properly.”
Still, even Adnan admits, “Emotionally, I was still clinging to the comfort of home. Just thinking about waking up early, commuting, sitting through lectures, and then prepping for the next day—it already feels tiring. You leave home, but some part of you doesn’t catch up for a few days.”
Now, as students all over the country start packing their bags—most of them with teary eyes and a whole lot of reluctance—they carry with them the small joys of the break. Food made with love, photos from lazy afternoons, and hangouts with cousins that don’t happen over a screen.
Going back to university isn’t easy—and honestly, who ever said it was? But that’s how growing up works: learning to carry a little bit of home with you, even when you’re far away. So, hang in there. The break might be over, but the memories are safely tucked into your bag, right between your laundry and unread books. May they give you enough strength to survive that class test you’ve definitely not started preparing for yet.