If Lara Jean Covey ever attended Malhar, she would’ve loved it. After all, what are Cardolates if not little pieces of people folded into paper? At a festival built around noise and adrenaline, Cardolates almost feel ancient, like something borrowed from another era. In a world of disappearing chats and constant texting, there is something deeply human about receiving a handwritten note meant only for you.
Every year, Malhar leaves behind its traces in us—a song played too loudly in the Quad, a blurry photo with your friends taken 5 minutes before rushing off to the next event, a shared cup of coffee, and the strange feeling of exhaustion and happiness existing together.
And then there are the Cardolates.
The handwritten notes passed around campus like little secrets. Folded pieces of paper carrying love, gratitude, inside jokes, apologies, and even compliments. Anonymous, heartfelt, and sometimes completely unhinged, Cardolates have quietly become one of Malhar’s most beloved traditions. Maybe that is why people wait for their Cardolates every year. At a festival where everyone is always running somewhere, carrying something, and somehow always running late, Cardolates make people pause. For one moment, someone chooses to sit down and think of you—to write down your name, to tell you that your effort mattered, your friendship mattered, and your presence made a difference.
Some Cardolates are inside jokes disguised as poetry. Some are dramatic confessions enough to deserve their own background soundtrack. Some are just letters saying “I saw you today, and I hope you’re doing okay.” Suddenly, people become brave enough to say things that they never would’ve survived saying out loud.
“Your laugh is my favourite sound.”
“You were so happy during our pre-event. I hope you stay that way forever.”
“To the person who keeps stealing the chai I keep on the table during our meetings—count your days.”
Then there are the Cardolates that never leave you. These are the ones that you find months later, tucked between the pages of your notebooks and drawers, and the ones that fall out unexpectedly when you are walking out of lecture rooms.
“Cardolates are the key to my memories of Malhar. It’s one of those items that you find in the back of your cupboard, dusty and forgotten. But once found, it instantly brings a smile to your face, along with the echoes of laughter and the flashes of lights from those thrilling days that shaped our entry to youth. The messages inside remind you of the person you were and the person you wanted to be, while also letting you savour the friendships that moulded you.” —Ishita (OG Hospitality) & Divyanka Guha (Coordi Hospitality)
Perhaps that is why Cardolates are one of the best memories of Malhar for the workforce. Between the endless sponsorship calls, meetings, venue changes, and the collective emotional support provided by several cups of cutting chai, we become a part of each other’s lives throughout these months. We witness stress-induced breakdowns, which instantly turn into adrenaline at the mere mention of food, last-minute miracles, and declarations of “I give up” followed immediately by showing up the next morning.
Cardolates are proof of the change in the relationship with your teammates that everybody keeps talking about.
Proof that somebody noticed you staying back after everyone left.
Proof that you made a meeting a little more bearable for someone.
Proof that somebody still laughs at the jokes you made several weeks ago.
The beauty of Cardolates has never been in grand confessions. It has always been in the small things—short sentences and ordinary words. Maybe that’s why Malhar always keeps bringing smiles to our faces—not because of the concerts or the events, but because it continues to provide a space where affection can be folded into tiny pieces of paper, and gratitude can travel anonymously across the campus.
As your writer, I hope that this year, you pause for a moment and choose to take a Cardolate and write that letter to the people who always bring a smile to your face, and to the people who made Malhar special for you.
And to all the M-Workforce I’ve loved before (and will continue to do so), the ones who made Malhar special for me—thank you. Thank you for the memories, the chaos, and the laughter that echoed the hallways.
To all the Cardolates, signed or unsigned, yet always reminding us that we are loved. —Always & Forever.