Most of you might’ve noticed by now that I’m making regular posts on my blog. But that’s beside the point.
Like all other posts of mine, today (again), was a day when I was walking in my garden at night (hence the name beneath the starry skies), and nighttime is the only period wherein all sorts of mind boggling contemplation occur(at least, that’s in my case, and trust me, if I accidentally stay awake at 2:00 AM, that’s it).
I saw a man walking along the road beside my house, and I thought to myself “Here is another guy who did his engineering, and yet, finds himself nowhere”. Travelling along this train of thoughts, I decided that I’m going to share my side of the story; my journey: from wannabe engineering student, to a fantabulously talented, aspiring journalist.
It all starts in the year 2012, the year when the apocalypse was to occur and destroy life as we know it. The reality wasn’t that different, because, at the very least, my life changed… well, it kind of destroyed the “life” in me (I know..there are waaay too many ‘life’s over here. Never mind).
So yeah, 2012, 10th grade. Let’s just say I was all set to follow the sheep deep into the foray to unravel the mysteries of life. I was to venture into the subject of science. And yes, I had full faith in me that I’d get by easily.
Contrary to the image that everyone has about me, or had about me, I was a person who had a pretty bad case of low self-esteem. Underconfident. Ugly. Not-so-awesome. You get the picture. The thing is, I considered myself inferior to everyone. I was less than my best friend, less than my crush’s boyfriend, less than my sister…less than my own cousins. I felt…lonely, and low. Practically all the time.
And that gave me the idea of taking up science, a mainstream subject, in order to, well, gain some respect…at the very least, from my family. My decision, upon being questioned, brought forth my crisp, sarcastic snappish retorts that usually sent the smartest alec packing. However, my parents did advise against the idea of me taking science, and naturally, like every other teen, I refused, partly because my ego wouldn’t let me, and partly because it was my long held belief that science would pave way for respect.
And so, I took the dive, having no idea about the intense grind and exhaustion that was to take the place of the lively energy in my eyes. The world lost most of its charm, and it had become wonderless, where everything was explained by formulas, theorems, and equations.
Einstein was to become my god, and NCERT to be the messiah, spreading its messages to me. Unfortunately, like every other religion has a few non-believers, I beleieve, I was the rebel. I was just not science material.
Unfortunately, being non-science material, the struggle was despicably hatred inducing.
Studying had become a chore. A chapter of chemistry acted like a tranquiliser. Classes were a bore, filled with repetitive drone of formulas, theorems and whatnot, which ultimately made my eyes glaze over. And naturally, I was weak in academics. Basically, sad life. My position in my family, or rather, the position I held in my mind abut myself slumped. It was ingrained in me that I wouldn’t amount to a shit-stain I thought. Self confidence-all time low. Self-respect-all but gone. Meanwhile, I got another delusion, and thought that if i had a girlfriend, I’d feel better. I made a move on a couple of girls. (All of them were pretty hilarious, now that I think about it) and got rejected repeatedly (naturally, I don’t publicise that fact). I guess I did learn something valuable (There! I’m giving a tip here) How will a girl love me, if I don’t love myself? (Love thyself, and the world shalt love thou).
Anyhow, back to the point, life slowly started to sap out of me, and I became a distant echo of who I used to be. Eleventh had gone by, and I found myself in twelfth.
Twefth was pretty muych the same as eleventh. Except that I somehow regained a little bit of life again. And got a girlfriend. Fantastic person, though I broke it off.
The big deal about twelfth was that I had to give my NDA examination (National Defence Academy). It was one of my many dreams to become a part of the Indian Armed Forces.
Coaching classes (which I had joined in eleventh, thinking that I’d become an engineer; who was I kidding?) were, in the simplest of words, a pain. I got bored there, and decided that rather than sitting there in class and wasting time, I would study for NDA. I used to got to the coaching class library and sit there, studying for the exam. I slogged hard, but I guess that it wasn’t enough.I failed to clear it. So ultimately, one of the few things that I’d considered would be an upside of taking science was torn away from me. I was convinced that I was up to no good.
However, life wasn’t done teaching lessons to me. Hope, albeit futile at times, is an incredibly important part of life, and it was a part that I wasn’t willing to let go of.
Despite my many shortcomings, I had one solid, strength: English (aaaaand the showing off has begun). Sure, it was good, but I guess my English teachers should take credit for making it the way it is right now (Barnali ma’am, Kiran ma’am and Eugenie ma’am, thank you). They pushed me (much to my annoyance) and at one point of time, forced me to write an essay. Sure, it ended up being brilliant, but still. I dodged them all at some point of time or the other, but then, you can’t run from teachers. Not in my school, at the very least. So, a whole lot of groaning, complaining and reasearching, I wrote my masterpiece: an essay on ‘Generation Gap’. The draft looked like this:
I wrote it down in neat handwriting, and submitted it to my teacher. The essay was sent to Delhi to be judged. Well….two months later, I stood awestruck in front of my chemistry teacher as she opened and showed the letter that was addressed to me along with a 10,000 rupee cheque.
I guess that began the revolution. I began my crusade to turn myself into the amazing person that I am today. I took part in other competitions, and..won in all of them. Dang, I was turning rich by the day.
By this point of time, I thought that my luck had run dry. However, another opportunity came by, an opportunity that helped me finalize my decision. I got to edit the Times Of India student edition, and the editor over there saw some amount of potential in me. I took her e-mail ID, and since then, I’ve been getting opportunities to do stuff for the newspaper remotely. Sure, I wasn’t the only one, but I was overwhelmingly ecstatic about the fact that I was a part of the ‘junior editors’. And that day, that moment, the contentment, the joy, the enormous relief I felt when I realized that THIS is where I fit in was enough to convince me of the fact that Journalism was my career.
All my accolades and accomplishments increased my self worth. My friends.. I don’t know what I’d have done without them or their support. They propped me up repeatedly through my tough times, and for that, I truly love them (no homo). Thanks guys. Everything started looking, well, bright. I asked my teachers for help in my academics, and they willingly provided it, for which I’m extremely grateful. And I know now, that although I don’t make a good science student, although I may not score a brilliant percentage in my exams, I’ll make one helluva good journalist.
So this here, is my story: The beginning, the journey, the end….well, it ain’t really the end, is it? Hence, laddies, don’t give up hope. Make decisions after seeing your own passion, and don’t follow the sheep, seeing as that’ll get you nowhere.
I do hope that this sends out the message, and a good one at that. Okay. I’m gone.