Harshitha
D. Kumayaa
I dodged as the answer
sheet pierced through the air towards my face as my physics teacher threw it. Physics
and I were never meant to be together. Yet again, I had passed the test merely
because of my teacher’s generosity.
Just like every other class XII student I went
to tuitions, after the long sessions of “special” classes at school. I wonder
why those classes were called “special”, when they were purely exasperating. The
crisply ironed white uniform put on at 6am looked like a flag holding on to the
pole lifelessly after incessant rains, by 8pm.
“What is your ambition in life?” asked the
principal before the board exams during a career counseling session. Without
much thinking, “Not an Engineer for sure” I said. Shock. A dramatic silence. The
tension in the room intensified. “I want to be a journalist”. I didn’t know
then that I would grow to be this passionate about journalism. All that my mind
said was, “Run away from numbers, calculation and theories! Run! Run!”
Though I preferred
calling myself “a free spirit”, a label was stamped on my forehead- a label
with the word ‘REBEL’, written in red bold capital letters. Parents of my
friends hung an invisible “beware” board on my neck. I was the ‘bad influence’
on the ‘good’ students who had an ‘aim’ in life.
When my comrades went on to continue schooling
for the next four years in an Engineering college, I wormed my way into the
English department of WCC. Yes, I did go through the trauma every arts and humanities
student faces in Tamil Nadu. The
derogatory tone when one says “Oh English-aah,” had the ability to break down
even the strongest soul.
My aunt described me as a person who has a
stone in the place of a heart. Probably that’s the reason why I didn’t care
what others thought.
If I were to be a mess, I wanted to embrace
that.
I didn’t bother showing
my mark sheets to anyone but my mom. Ranks didn’t matter to the father who
thought his daughter was going to be a failure. Performance didn’t matter to
the relatives who thought she was doing “some” course in a city college.
With a crazy group of
friends, I was not the only rebel anymore. We were the REBELS of the college.
Bunking classes, bullying students and getting into fights were regular.
Three years flew.
Results were announced.
The best student of the college in arts and
humanities over the period of the course, yes! That was me.
Life changed.
The five awards did something that I couldn’t
do as a person for all these years. Dad started loving me all the more. He said
I was “Rancho”- the character played by Aamir Khan in ‘3 idiots’. Aunties
started calling up for career and educational advice for their children. Uncles
who turned away began having conversations with me.
I was still the 110th rank holder among
120 students in class XII Half Yearly exam. It didn’t feel any different.
Probably, tokens of
appreciation made of metal could make an outcast, a king.
Much needed story to many
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