Day 7/100 of writing challenge :)

It was just another day in college. Except me. And my batchmates. Because today was the day the university was going to declare our results.

The results were due at 11 in the morning, and I was awake since last night (along with most of my friends).

We kept revisiting our exams, Vivas, and practical exams and kept reassuring. We were sure (at least some of us) that we would clear the exam, while some of us had this small knot of uncertainty in the pit of our stomachs.

We were hoping for the best but somewhere we knew that there does exist a possibility that we might not pass.

After all, clearing the first year of medicine is considered a great feat. Six theory exams, twelve practicals, an hour-long Viva on anatomy and physiology and not to mention tearing up a cadaver to expose key organs. It can get and does get a little unnerving.

The minutes rolled into hours, and the earth slowly rotated to 10 AM. Just another hour to go. This was a time when smartphones were a status symbol and we had to visit cyber café to access the internet. Each café in the two kilometers radius was swarming with first years. After visiting seven to eight cafes, I and a few of my friends finally found one with an empty desktop and quickly paid the café guy. ?

The moment was slowly inching toward us. We logged on to the university’s website and kept refreshing it constantly.

10:55 AM

F5

10:56 AM

F5

10:59 AM

F5

And then finally. 11:00 AM.

F5.

The site loaded. We clicked on the link, and it asked for our exam seat number. My friend punched in his and made a typo for the first time.

He entered his number again. In my head, I kept thinking that if this guy fails, I am not even going to bother checking my results. The site refreshed and the result flashed in big and bold letters – PASS.

We both sighed with a breath of relief. My friend was almost in tears. He immediately stepped to call his parents.

We checked the next roll no., and then the next, and then another.

Luckily each of my friends had managed to pass the exam. Some with flying colors and some by the skin of their teeth. But – they passed. They moved on to the next year of medicine and were a step closer to becoming doctors.

It was almost 11:30 AM and it was finally my turn. I slowly and carefully typed in my roll no. The screen went blank. The café had lost its internet connection.

The net was back in another ten minutes. I refreshed the website and entered my roll no. again. The site loaded slowly as if it derived some sinister pleasure in making me wait.

The site finally loaded and big, bold letters showed up on the screen – RESULTS WITHHELD.

What? Wait What? What does that even mean?

I asked a few first years, and they didn’t know. I called a few of my seniors and even they didn’t know what that meant.

Finally, I called my professor. He listened to me for a minute and answered - Please come to college and meet the Dean.

What? Why? What happened?

I wanted to ask these questions but before I could utter a single word, my professor hung up.

I rushed to the college and was asked to wait. I waited. I asked again and was asked to wait. I waited. I asked and I waited. I waited and I asked.

After an hour I was called into the principal’s office. The Dean explained to me what was happening. After thirty minutes of explanation, I was handed my leaving certificate and was asked not to come to college from that moment onwards.

My admission was canceled.

The reason my admission was canceled - is something I do not wish to get into this post. I assure you and I hope that you will believe me – that it was not because of any malpractice, misbehavior, or misconduct on my part.

No matter what the reason, the reality remained the same. I was robbed of my dream. A dream, a goal, a passion that I had worked hard for.

This incident happened quite a few years ago. Even now, at times, I unwillingly go back to that moment in time, when I sat on a cement bench outside my college. I wept, clutching that leaving certificate, with no one around, no family, no friends.

Just me, my tears, and my reality.

A few months after this incident, I kept fantasizing about how I would have been a great doctor. What if this had not happened? Why did this happen to me? Why am I being punished?

My mind was plagued with these questions, and I didn’t have an answer to any of those questions. My family tried their best to support me and so did my friends. But the pain didn’t go away.

This incident in my life taught me a very valuable lesson. No matter how much you fantasize, think, imagine, complain, or fight – your reality is your reality.

Your health issues are your reality. Where you are in your life – professionally, personally, or romantically – is your reality. How much you earn, how much you weigh, where you are – is your reality.

You might from time to time indulge in an ideal fantasy that what if I had been born into a rich family, or if my father had supported me, or if this had happened, or If I had this when I was a kid – Your reality will remain the same.

So, the only true way to get past any trauma is to know that it happened. It is over. It is done. There is no point in imprisoning your mind and your true potential because of one mishap or misfortune.

It happened. Nothing in this world is eternal. Nor is pain. And as John Greene once said,

“That is the beauty of pain,

It demands to be felt…”

And that truly is the beauty of pain. It is to be felt. Until you let it be and feel it and process it – it will keep coming back to you in different forms.

The problem is when we fall in love with pain. We make pain a part of our identity. And worse is when we get addicted to the sympathy, hugs, and head nods we get from people that love us.

We must remember that each pain that might come in our life comes with an expiry date. It is up to you to decide that expiry date and be done with it.

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