The (not so) subtle art of not giving a #$!*: Story of  Imposter Syndrome in Freshman year

Credits: Fatehjot, Gopala, Shivani, Khushi
Mentor: Arth & Aryan

The The (not so) Subtle Art of Not Giving a #$!*

This article is a collaborative effort by students of the Fresher’s panel in Be The Panellist (2025) to recognise experiences that help streamline the overarching problem into stages, address the issues, and evaluate different paths to mental well-being, while raising awareness of the constant fear of falling behind amongst themselves. This effort aims to be a beacon of hope for anyone who feels alone, helpless, or clueless. A solution to end this feeling? Hard to find one. But there comes a sense of belongingness for sure to most.

A. The misadventures of disappointment at IITB

A semester has already flown by… so much has happened, and still happening— XLR8, Freshiezza, Glamour Grande, Sophieprod, Endsems and the never-ending list of “insti things.” Any student entering this institute- the dreamland of JEE hustlers, as we call it- would naturally expect to get in return for what they gave up on, just to bag their presence here, but as the series of horrific events dwindle around, you sincerely become an astonished spectator witnessing semesters fly right off your head. 

Good at studies? So is everyone else.
Decent at a niche? There’s someone who blows you out of the water.  It is fair to assume that many feel overwhelmed, sometimes out-classed, whether it’s extracurriculars, academics, relationships, or even just learning how to exist socially and talk to people. We, the newly admitted instizens, tend to join every new WhatsApp group with the hope of finding a place to belong, only to participate in none, caught between aspiration and apprehension. Beneath the noise of competitive résumés and effortless confidence lies a shared, unspoken tension: the worry that everyone else has already figured life out while you’re still learning how to take up space

At the end of it, there’s this looming feeling of being an imposter — someone who can pretend to belong to the culture but deep down feels left out. And the scariest part? They think they’re the only ones who feel this way. When they aren’t. There are others too, smiling through the noise, laughing just enough to blend in. Inside, the same thought echoes: you’re not good enough. They want to reach out, to be seen, to be understood, but the fear of being truly known keeps them silent. So they keep pretending, hoping nobody notices the cracks. And somewhere across the room, another person does the same — both waiting for someone to understand what neither knows how to say.

In the labyrinth where we all get lost, we forget where the roots of this issue are connected from- JEE, which is stressful and soul sucking to say the least. After months of cutthroat competition, countless breakdowns, and the dreaded counselling process, getting into IITB must have felt surreal to most of us. For many, it is the long-imagined dream finally coming true, and it is entirely valid to anticipate a thrilling college life ahead of them, for they were forever being lured by this bait we call ‘rat race’. Students enter the campus expecting a grand new beginning —getting a large friend group, discovering their passions, finding the love of their lives, developing new skills and talents, all while excelling academically and while most of them seem to be true initially, it takes barely a week for those expectations to collapse.

Somewhere between the endless loop of “Heyyy, what’s your name?”, “What’s your department?”, “Where are you from?” *crickets*, *awkward smiles* …and the hundredth “welcome to IITB”, they realise this experience isn’t what they hoped for. But the actual reality check comes with the first week of lectures. What have I signed up for becomes a recurring thought. For many, feeling academically inadequate was unfamiliar before IIT. Once on campus, however, the constant sense of not knowing enough or not being ‘smart enough’ quickly became part of the daily experience. All this was more than what the academically validated, sleep-deprived minds of freshers could handle.

Salsa night doesn’t seem like the epitome of romance, while students were trying not to get crushed by the crowd or slip and break a nose in the rain. During JEE prep, IITB was romanticised to an unreal extent, the proof of having “made it”.But once they actually got here, all the things they’d imagined to be magical felt strangely flat, events were just sweaty crowds, lectures moved faster than their minds could keep up, and the campus that once looked like a dream suddenly felt a little too real, a little too ordinary. Dealing with all this while pretending not to be homesick doesn’t feel like the peak IIT experience. 

B. You are Not Special 

At IITB, the fear of missing out takes different forms. Some students are overwhelmed by the sheer amount of opportunities around them, while others throw themselves into everything and still feel strangely unfulfilled at the end.

Amongst the crowd – This is the student who doesn’t sprint to every single event or orientation. They don’t feel compelled to show up at all fifty introductions or sign up for every opportunity that comes their way. But later? The absence stings. They lie in bed, scrolling through stories and posts from people they barely might know, wishing they had been there too. FOMO stops being a passing feeling and becomes a steady pulse in their mind. Even when they do give in and attend something, the moment feels strange, and the sense of belonging never fully settles. Even though they are not giving it their all, burnout is a common feeling they experience. In this case, exhaustion does not come from doing too much, but constantly feeling like you’re never doing enough. They envy the people who seamlessly blend into groups, speak to seniors as if they’ve known each other for years. Meanwhile, they hover at the edges, forever the observer, unsure if any space truly has room for them.

Giving it their all – this is the story of that one person who seems to be doing everything everywhere all at once. Even for people like them, FOMO is one of the worst feelings imaginable, and you can only begin to imagine the lengths they’d go to just to avoid it For them, FOMO isn’t just a feeling, it has become a driving force that keeps them running from one event to another, signing up for every activity, showing up to every meet. Sometimes they force themselves to sit through hours and hours of meetings or IBs they don’t even want to be in, maybe because some of their friends are going, as they sit there, their mind drifts to all the other things they could’ve been doing instead. Other times, they skip one event for another, only to realise later that the one they missed turned out to be much more fun. Even if they are not essentially good at everything, they’ll be the first person you see when you walk into any event.  Afterall, at the end of the day it’s the memories they made while actively participating in the events that matter, no one is going to remember the number of times they tried to keep themselves awake, the number of times they missed the mess timings, the number of times they couldn’t study for a quiz, the number of times they were so exhausted that they just wanted to make it all stop. None of that matters. What matters is that they were present; they were a part of the crowd.

Whether someone does everything or almost nothing, the feeling often remains the same – whatever they are doing is not enough. 

C. A..for Acads, D.. for Disappointment

    If you are wondering that FOMO exists only at places where people are new, False crack! It takes time to comprehend how challenging it gets at an academic level, only to realise you are no good at one of the only things you thought you were good at. The students who were once absolute toppers of their classes now find themselves pitted against each other by the RG (relative grading) system. Add to that the endless labs, frequent quizzes, and fast-paced lectures, the freshly brewed JEE hustlers soon realise that surviving here demands far more effort than they ever imagined. Surrounded by toppers from across the country, they often find themselves just another average student, constantly trying, doubting their own abilities.

And this doubt doesn’t stop inside the classroom. After that two-year war with themselves during JEE prep, you’d expect momentum and motivation to carry forward. Instead, it collapses, most of these folks no longer find the motivation to study for exams, not even the night before the exam, they skim through those 200 slides half asleep, end up messing up most of the exams, wishing they could go back to those JEE days, when the mind was clear(or at least clearer) of distractions, and focused on that one single goal. Back then, every mock test felt like the real exam. But now, even writing an endsem feels like a mere formality. They don’t study for them, don’t perform well, and then sink into the sea of disappointment.

That doubt deepens because the culture here is still shaped by JEE hangovers. The crowd here, freshly out of JEE, has their personalities morphed to just revolve around marks, making them still believe in a kind of  ‘JEE rank’ hierarchy — The higher the rank, the smarter the person. Having been competitive about that one thing for the past two to three years and then achieving it still keeps them in a similar mindset, and someone with a relatively lower rank or from a ‘lower’ branch may feel like they are not good enough as their peers, that they may not be deserving to be here. 

That’s where the “sab chill hai” culture kicks in — not because things are chill, but because everyone feels the pressure to pretend they are. Someone tries to study for a quiz, finally sits down with intent, and right then a friend shows up saying, “chill bro, quiz doesn’t matter.” And even though he knows it does matter, he gives in, shuts the laptop, doesn’t study… and regrets it later. The guilt becomes another brick in the wall of self-blame, and the cycle begins all over again.

And the truth is — the academics don’t get easier. The workload keeps piling up, the deadlines keep closing in, and there’s barely any time to breathe before the next quiz or lab shows up. And the student just keeps running, not because he wants to but because everyone around him is. Trying and failing in this Academic Colosseum.

D. An Introvert’s Life & the Tyranny of Exceptionalism

The competitive environment of this Colosseum knows no bounds, from academics to extracurriculars to simply being part of the “cool” friend groups; here, everything counts. 

A student may spend the whole day in the hostel with nothing productive or just fun to do, and out of boredom opens Instagram to scroll through reels… only to be hit by stories of friend groups playing football on a rainy day, another group chilling at R-City, and others showing off a night out at Juhu. Meanwhile, he’s still lying there alone, without any significant friend circle, quietly wishing he had gone out more in those first few days — that maybe if he had been a little more social, he too would’ve been part of a “cooler” group by now. 

He goes to lectures, sits through them quietly, and talks to a few people. Most days, that’s his whole social life. He sometimes goes to Club oreos, sits there alone and comes back, never to go back.  It isn’t that he doesn’t want friends; it’s that every group already seems complete without him. He watches people click so effortlessly with each other while he hesitates at the edge, debating whether he should walk over or stay where he is.

On the rare days when he gathers enough courage to try, he steps into a conversation with hope, only to feel it fade slowly. As the others laugh, share inside jokes, or talk about things he barely relates to, an uncomfortable feeling rises within him of being an Imposter. So he smiles, nods along, and quietly slips away before anyone notices his discomfort.

In an environment that rewards achievement, confidence, and visibility, many freshers are shackled down by their lack of social skills.

E.  The fear of fading into the background 

And then being in an enormous institute like this can make anyone feel small. When days follow the same pattern of self-doubt, comparison and seemingly meaningless efforts, it is easy to feel as though nothing is moving, as if time has stopped. Thoughts swing between missed chances and future opportunities, anything that might make one visible in a crowd of already shining individuals. Leading him to start undervaluing himself, missing even more opportunities going forward. Slowly and slowly, that starts to reduce them to the sidelines.

Life becomes an ongoing battle with comparison with those who occupy the centre stage, where each action is measured with others who seem to be doing it better and in acads this comes built into the system. Even genuine happiness for a friend’s accomplishment comes with a hint of unspoken bitterness. In a community overflowing with talent, people who can code with ease, perform with confidence and play with focus or just can socialise without trying, the people on the sidelines are consumed by the fear of being overlooked, which starts as a seed embedded inside them, grows its roots and consumes the mind. Others shine so brightly that it becomes difficult to see the spark in oneself. The thought of what one is truly good at starts to blur.

Even acceptance of this doesn’t bring any comfort; a strange sting still, the feeling of being a pebble in a vast beach full of seashells still remains. 

What hurts most is that no one caused this. No one openly compared them or dismissed them. The battle is internal, fought silently. And maybe others around him are fighting their own silent versions of it, too. But in a place where everyone is trying to look fine, no one ever says it aloud.

F.. So.. What’s the solution?

Maybe they’ve just learned to be okay with it. Or maybe not? It’s IITB after all, a place where competition is ingrained in the very soul of the people here, it’s part of the culture here. Every breath here comes with a race full of rats, but maybe you don’t want to be a rat. Everyone here seems to be running, but towards what? Running or skipping nothing makes sense. What does success even mean here? Maybe the vision of success is different for everyone. 

Seniors say that brighter days lie ahead, that it’s okay to feel this way, that it eventually gets better, and that you’re not alone. But is that really the only solution? To simply accept it and learn to live with it? Maybe this feeling never truly disappears. Maybe it just softens over time, becoming a quieter voice, one that hides behind your grades, your achievements, your laughter. There are some moments that make you feel like you really deserve to be here, but then some completely shake its very foundation. Yet, every now and then, it still whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough. You keep waiting for that one day when you’ll finally feel like you belong here, that you are a full-fledged IITBian, but somehow, it never really comes.

Maybe this is what growing up at IIT Bombay really means- not conquering this feeling, but learning to live with it, pretending you’ve moved past it even when you haven’t, trying to get rid of it while you act as if you do not care.