Sitting through the umpteenth day of my seemingly useless coaching class, my mind reels with confusion. It seems so strange to have such less affinity towards the great works of renowned scientists, the formulae worked out after such hard toil. It is quite surprising though, not being able to fully appreciate their extreme genius.
But somehow all this just doesn’t appeal to me the way I thought it would when I was still in class X. And here I am, another student stuck between her own wrongdoings and clash of choices.
As a class XI newbie I always thought to have made the perfect choice for myself, decided upon my ultimate goal ardently. I still remember fade traces of the then new energy that ran through my veins at the thought of being an engineering aspirant, my bright future glistening in my daydreams. Little did I know where my heart lay, what I enjoyed profoundly. I could never differentiate between “want-to-be” and “meant-to-be”. And I paid the price of not understanding myself.
I struggled through the two years of intensive study programme. Never being able to respond to the teachings of my talented teachers, never being able to comprehend the reason of my failures. But I never quit, and continued to fight off my failures, beginning once again the battle of brains against my own instincts. But nothing happened. My scores never went up. Frustration began to mount.
Disgrace and disappointment haunted the daylights out of me. The fear of failure, the fear that every student who has not even once in his life been unable to make the cut feels, began to grasp me in its shackles. I felt as if there was no way out of my problems. I had come to terms with my thoughts of lacking wits enough to write my name correctly. I had accepted my gruesome life with its difficulties along with my new status of “brainless idiot”.
But then one day something happened. As dramatic it may seem but that day I found the solution to every problem of mine. I had just realized what I had known for ages. I was never made for what I was chasing. Despite hearing the same words for the last six months from various sources, I never found it even an inch close to my set of considerations. How strange it was, I had thought it better to consider myself an idiot rather than pondering over my own self.
A new thought struck me as I came back to my senses from the feeling of silliness over my basic thinking algorithms. I started to think what I was meant for. Well, that is probably “supposed” to be revealed to me at another such unpredictably lucky moment of my life. Till then, the search for information in the apparent black hole continues.