Princeton, New Jersey, USA
Not my circus, feels like my monkeys
College Town? College in Town?
Oxford in England where I studied was a ‘college town’ with blurred lines between the University of Oxford’s campus and the city of Oxford. Students would host bops (college parties) that end with costumed walks through town at 2 a.m., leaving glitter trails and the occasional traffic cone mysteriously placed on rooftops. Shops would tailor their hours to match term time, and locals sighed (not always a welcoming one) when freshers returned
Princeton, on the other hand, feels more like a university placed within the town of New Jersey. TheUniversity campus is grand, but enclosed, while the surrounding town is dintinct with a residential hush that doesn’t scream student chaos. If you did a happiness poll between the residents of Oxford and those in Princeton, I’d bet good money the Jersey crowd would be more content… fewer glitter trails and rooftop traffic cones to deal with
Coachella Meets Academia: Princeton University Reunions.
I got invited to my cousin’s reunion at Princeton—Class of 2014—and at first, I wasn’t sold. I pictured myself awkwardly clapping from the sidelines while my cousin paraded past in orange, flanked by my aunt and uncle. It wasn’t my reunion, after all. I almost bailed. But I ended up going… and in hindsight, boy I am glad I did!
What I expected to be a quiet Ivy League get-together turned out to be a fun music festival. During the day, alumni walked in the annual “P-rade” with their classmates and families, each class getting creative with themes, matching outfits, balloon hats, and live music. Think glitter capes, marching bands, and spontaneous dancing. And then the real transformation happens at night. The night begins at 9pm with the start of the fireworks. Everyone starts walking towards the football stadium which soon enough becomes packed with students watching fireworks light up the sky, followed by a loud, joyful chanting of the school anthem. I didn’t know the words—and so just resorted to repeating what I could hear and remember i.e., “Tiger, tiger!”—with people waving the school mascot -tiger printed scarves and stuff toys
Following the fireworks is the next phase of the night. The university grounds get divided into massive “tents” (2–4 acre fenced areas), each hosted by a graduating class with its own music stage, food trucks, and bars. The Class of '89 was grooving to ABBA, 2020 was heavy on the EDM, and somewhere in between I stumbled into a tent playing Rihanna and Taylor Swift. You could float from tent to tent, chasing the music of your choice—very Coachella. Surrounded by students and alumni reliving their glory days of school, and stalls set-up in libraries and dining halls, it also felt academic. It wasn’t my circus after all, but felt like I was around my monkeys
I learned that students are allowed to bring guests every year, and there may exist some open tickets for purchase as well (if anyone is interested). I am sold to be annual guest, and for those less sold, The Princeton campus itself is worth visiting—even without the music festival. Wide, tree-lined paths, gothic architecture, old benches, and even an art museum tucked into campus. Its worth a visit if in Jersey
Dr. House in Princeton. I grew up watching House M.D.—and till date spend some part of my adult life watching re-runs. Its the equivalent of watching Friends for me, a comfort show. I know all the disease names, Lupus? Sarcoidosis? Amyloidosis?, and the most bizarre one of all—mirror syndrome. (If you know, you know.)
But all these years I never realized, until walking around Princeton, that Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital—from the show, the fictional hospital where all this drama goes down—is based on a very real place. The hospital building shown in the exterior shots is of one of the buildings in the University, and the actual hospital where some scenes were modeled is the Princeton Medical Center. Some very cool visualisations were running in my head of the show’s scenes as I walked by the building
Indian Temples. As anyone who has been or lives in Jersey is familiar, the city has many Indian temples, and a significant population of Hindus.
As an Indian girl visiting my family here, I was naturally taken to a temple—a grand one, ornate and polished, buzzing with rituals and offerings. What caught my eye, though, wasn’t the architecture or the idols (I have grown up seeing those). It was the giant marble plaques along the temple walls, etched with the names of donors—and the exact amounts they’d given. We’re not talking rounded-up numbers. Think from $3,478.72 to even $2,000,000.00!
It made me pause. I’m not religious, so this wasn’t exactly my circus or my monkeys, but I couldn’t help wondering? what would I donate to and display oh so proudly? The answer came to me rather instantaneously, I would donate to young artists, interior designers, fashion students—people who are creating beauty, expression and art. My mother is an artist and I grew up in a house that was a cottage industry or workshop in some ways, I imbibed unconsciously a creative spirit, and deep recognition for creators. So one day I would donate to an art school, maybe in India and display on the wall all the creations the class builds
Dripping in Hogie Havens. You don’t just eat at Hoagie Haven—you commit. I waited nearly two hours in line, watching the crowd outside swell with college kids, locals, and out-of-towners all bonded by one shared craving: the hoagie. And not just any hoagie—these beasts are gigantic sandwiches, high on calories, unapologetically greasy, and engineered to test the limits of your jaw
Fries inside the sandwich? Mozzarella sticks? Mac and cheese wedges? All of it, together, in one bun. And somehow, it works. People walk around proudly in Hoagie Haven t-shirts, and I used to roll my eyes thinking—who buys merch for a sandwich shop? A mug, fine. But a whole t-shirt? Now I get it. It’s not just a meal. It’s a memory. Est. in 1970s, this eatery has been around for some time and so most poeple I spoke with, across ages had heard of and tried the hoagies, and they all remember and return!
Poor students in Palmer Square. As I was walking in Palmer Square (think Champs De Lysse in Paris or Mayfair in London), I could not help but empathise with the college students who probably feel this is like being in an art gallery where you can’t buy any pieces you like (yet). You’re surrounded by beautifully curated stores with price tags that can pay for an entire semester’s worth of ramen noodles and rent. From the chic Ralph Lauren store to the scent-laced L'Occitane en Provence, or J.Crew and Hermes, it’s a parade of aspiration—where window shopping becomes an emotional sport. For me personally, it was some degree of comfort to be there not as a student
The tracks more or less travelled by in Jersey. If you’re hopping on an Amtrak or NJ Transit, chances are you’ll find yourself passing through Trenton Transit Center. By day, it’s your standard Northeast Corridor hub—bustling platforms, coffee in one hand, suitcase in the other, and a surprising number of people running late (me, always)
But once the sun sets? That’s when Trenton Station quietly changes costumes—from commuter crossroads to the kind of place that makes you clutch your backpack a little tighter. Trenton has often ranked lower on station safety lists compared to nearby stops as well as most stations around the country. Why? Part of it lies in the city's economic struggles and a long history of underinvestment post-industrial decline. The area around the station can feel a bit deserted after dark, with limited lighting, fewer people, and a higher chance of unsolicited conversations that feel just a little too personal. (I was reminded of some scenes from ‘The Wire’, if you know you know)
In total contrast is the Dinky Train—America’s shortest (5-7 minutes) scheduled commuter rail line, running just 2.7 miles between Princeton Junction and the university campus. As it glides through leafy neighborhoods and the serene university grounds, you’re surrounded by college kids in Princeton hoodies, rolling suitcases, some being dropped off by parents. Felt like I was stepping onto platform 9¾ on the way to Hogwarts, with a Wawa stop ofcourse
