Five years ago, I was racing across campus, camera in hand, chasing the last bit of golden hour before a front-page photo deadline. It was my third year as the photo editor at The Miami Student, and I had convinced myself, as I often did, that the perfect shot was still out there, waiting. That obsession with moments and meaning, with the timing of light and the power of stillness, followed me long after I left Oxford.
But not every moment was about movement.
Some evenings, I would leave the noise behind and wander into the nature trails surrounding campus. No camera. No deadline. Just quiet. That space between the world and the woods was where I learned to breathe again. And on the days that blurred into nights, I would find myself inside the Armstrong Student Center – studying, editing, showing up for appointments and sometimes just sitting with my thoughts in the soft buzz of student life. That building held as much of me as any classroom ever did.
Miami University wasn’t just where I studied. It’s where I started – slowly, quietly – becoming who I am.
After graduating in May 2020, I stayed in the United States for a while, trying to make sense of what it meant to be an adult in a world that suddenly felt uncertain. Later, I moved to India, reconnecting with home and beginning a new chapter in our family business: working across supply chain management and real estate development.
Since then, life has unfolded across both places. I’ve gone back and forth between the U.S. and India – new cities, new people, same me.
And yet, in all that movement, one truth kept circling back: I never really left Miami.
You don’t know what you know until you leave
Oxford teaches you gently. You don’t realize it while you're there. It seeps in slowly – through the bricks under your feet, the stillness of the library, the weight of a camera hanging from your shoulder as you walk across campus chasing a story that matters.
It wasn’t until I left, until I was sitting on a flight from the U.S. back to India, that I felt the gravity of what Miami had given me. I paused the movie I was watching, “Nomadland,” to hear an announcement, and the screen froze on a line that still echoes in me:
"Home. Is it just a word? Or is it something you carry within you?"
I was returning after years – and at that moment, I wasn’t sure which direction was forward. But I knew this: I was carrying both homes inside me. The quiet hills of Oxford and the rhythm of Mumbai. Both were real. Both had shaped me.
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Belonging isn’t found – it’s built
My mentor in the newsroom, the photo editor before me, saw something in me I hadn’t seen in myself. He challenged me, pushed me, believed in me when I was still learning to believe in myself. He taught me more than how to frame a shot; he taught me how to show up with intention.
That kind of leadership, that trust – it stayed with me.
At Miami, I learned that belonging isn’t something that waits for you. It’s something you build through late-night walks, shared coffees and conversations that stretch into silence and back again. In India, I had to relearn that process. It’s different, more layered, but the tools were already within me.
You find familiarity not in the places, but in how you treat people – and how you let them treat you.
The most important things you learn are between the lines
I can’t recall every theory I studied in class. But I can tell you exactly how it felt to sit under a tree near Western Campus, wondering where I was going in life. I can tell you how it felt to walk away from a situation that cracked something open inside me – a moment of stillness so sharp it felt like a mirror being held to my soul.
That was my moment of clarity. My personal enlightenment.
Oxford was the first place that taught me how to face myself honestly.
And maybe that’s what college is for. Not just to teach you, but to unteach you all the noise, so you can finally hear your own voice.
Your story is portable – even when you’re not
These days, my work looks nothing like my college days. I’m in supply chains and site visits, not pressrooms. But the way I see the world, that’s still the same. That came from years behind the lens, observing quietly, looking for the story inside the scene.
Whether I’m in India or the U.S., that perspective shapes how I lead, how I connect, how I solve problems. It shapes how I exist – noticing the details most people walk past.
Because once you’ve learned to see the world with attention, it’s hard to stop.
Five years out, I don’t see Miami as just a place I went. I see it as the place where I became someone who pays attention. Who believes in the power of being present. Who understands that joy is often quiet. Meaning doesn’t need to be loud to be profound.
There’s a quote that floats through the air at Miami: "To think, in such a place, I led such a life."
It’s more than nostalgia. It’s gratitude, wonder and the quiet awe of knowing I was exactly where I needed to be – long before I knew why.
Jugal J. Jain is a 2020 mechanical engineering graduate, and he is the Director at Exim Transtrade (India) Pvt. Ltd. and Vibranic Global Inc. (USA), working in logistics, materials procurement and real estate. He contributes to youth leadership and community service as the vice chairman of the JITO Youth Mumbai Zone, Mulund Chapter and Joint Treasurer of the Leo Club of Bombay Sarvodaya Nagar. Formerly a photo editor for The Miami Student and Miami Quarterly, he describes himself as a modern monk - drawn to fitness, photography and fresh perspectives.
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