Self Worth - Or Lack of It

Since it’s a new year and everyone is busy with some sort of retrospection, I decided to take a look back at my life so far…now before I begin I’d like to thank Shenthol better known as Another Blogger for “inspiring” this post. I’m otherwise not the kind of person who likes to look back and reminisce, but somehow I could relate to her post titled “Self Worth” (which explains why I sort of got “inspired” by the title too).

Right so let’s head back to life as it was 10 years ago (yeah I decided to go waaaaay back into time…back when the dinosaurs were still around)…life back then was different to say the least (primarily because I spent my formative years in Africa). I was considered the biggest geek to have ever hit planet earth (primarily because I wasn’t like the other “pseudo intellectual” ladies who cared more about their cup size than their term paper grades). I didn’t mind being a geek because quite frankly I never really felt the need to “have a life” or to do things, which the other “normal kids” were doing at that time (but that doesn’t mean I didn’t know how to have fun). I prided myself in being an above average student – I can still recall my Grade 3 final assembly where two of my good friends (Nancy and Banyana) got prizes for coming first and second in class. I came home and asked my mom why I never got a prize and she told me that you only got prizes if you came first/second...not third. After that day I made it a point to excel in my academic prowess. I made my parents proud, and like every proud Indian parent they saw a doctor in the making. I would have preferred to become a fashion designer but I knew (because I had been made to believe) that such a profession wasn’t meant for “smart people”, so even I backed my parents belief and began to see myself strutting down brightly lit corridors in a white coat giving instructions on how to save a life…

Cut back 5.5years ago when I left Africa to come back to the homeland (once again in pursuit of "my dream" of becoming a doctor). It was post my O’Levels and I had once again done my parents proud by getting a near perfect grade in all 9 subjects. I was confident and sure of myself (atleast as far as academics were concerned)…I didn’t pride myself in having extra-ordinary “people” skills but I assumed that they weren’t really required considering how I was on a mission (little did I know that it would turn out to be mission impossible). I had to get enrolled in school again (even though technically I had completed 12years of education – but since I was so “smart” I had managed to complete 12years of education in 9years flat! Hurray for me!) because according to the Indian Education System an O’Level wasn’t regarded as 12th Standard but the University recognised it and would grant me admission for an honours course…but I didn’t want that – I was going to sit for my entrances and become a doctor so I decided to get enrolled in grade 11 instead…and that’s when my life’s graph took a plunge...

I spent the most miserable two years of my entire life in Ryan International School. Once the whole “she’s just a South African bitch” phase was over I began my struggle to cope with my “friends”. I noticed how the class was divided into over-achievers and under-achievers, with nothing in between. Without say, I fell into the under-achiever’s category because I couldn’t cope with the alien education system. But I didn’t give up…not until after 12th atleast. The “smart kids” shunned me because:
My command over Hindi was as good as my ability to sword fight (I became the butt of many jokes – most of which I didn’t understand because they were in a foreign language)
I showed no signs of intelligence because I couldn’t cram formulas or do mental calculations at the speed of light.
I had no interest in watching saas-bahu serials for pleasure
Homework was NOT my life
I didn’t tie a plait and oil my hair till it dripped off my side burns
My face looked bitchy (I was actually told this once…I would beg to differ)
I didn’t get a perfect score in every exam, unit test, pop quiz
The teachers hated me because I was an alien

The “not-so-smart/popular kids” snubbed me because:
I wasn’t exactly a party animal
I didn’t enjoy belittling the smart kids
I wasn’t stinking rich with tonnes of money to burn
I didn’t drink and smoke (as strange as this seems – before coming to India I drank only if the occasion called for it…and I didn’t smoke)
I didn’t have a boyfriend
I had taken biology with mathematics
I didn’t fancy the idea of bunking school (because I was scared what my parents would think if they found out)
My life’s sole purpose wasn’t to get a French Manicure done

So I invariably joined the outcasts – a group of 5 girls who were like me – they were the “in betweens” so to speak. With them I learnt how to be careless about my studies, how to cheat in exams (even though I’d never really have the guts to take out that little chit stuck in my shoe – but I’d still keep it there just incase). My brain cells didn’t deteriorate – I just accepted being a loser. I tasted failure for the first time in that school. That gave me a reality check – this wasn’t Africa, I wasn’t so smart afterall. I began to study (albeit on the sly so as not to be called a nerd by my “friends”) as best as I knew how, with the hope that my efforts will pay off. They didn’t. Not the second time or the third time or any time after that. I hate to say it but after so many failures I accepted the fact that I was no good. It became ok for me to get average/below average grades. My focus shifted from trying to come first to trying to pass in the exams.

Then came the giant turn – the turn that decided which road I took. Now I had two avenues infront of me – one lead to medicine (which was the obvious first choice) and the other lead to engineering (since I was doing maths it would do no harm to try it out)…a few entrance exams later I discovered that the medicine/engineering paths had been blocked because I had failed to clear any of the entrances. The only paths open were architecture or a simple honours course. I saw my parents’ dreams shatter before their very eyes. I saw the pain they felt when they realised that their prodigy had turned into a lump of coal. The architecture option closed because the only seat I was getting was in some town down south whose name I could neither spell nor pronounce (it started with T and was long enough to qualify to be a sentence). So the only thing left for me to do to save my face was to find a good college and to graduate with flying colours. But those dreams were shattered when my CBSE results came – a 75% was not going to get me anywhere. So the next plan was to opt for a good course in any college; and that’s how English Honours chose me. The college I went to was shady, most people didn’t even know of its existence – thus began another 3years of compromise. I tried to make the most of college by not attending any class, getting drunk every other day and enjoying life by doing all things “forbidden”. The prodigy in me had been buried alive and what remained was a strung out confused soul who was brain dead from all that substance abuse.

My parents, being the typical Indian parents that they are, didn’t give up hope as quickly as I did. They planned for my grand post graduation from one of the IIM’s. Little did they know that from that point onwards nothing they ever dreamed about was ever going to come true…because I had given up…I had accepted the fact that I was good for nothing…studying for me had become a futile exercise that lead to failure. I don’t blame the education system (even though it had a huge part to play in my demise) because I could have adjusted (but it was a little difficult seeing how I had spent 15.5years outside the motherland). Instead of adjusting I thought, “Fuck it, I’m going to party!” My attitude towards books got me a beautiful 79.80 percentile in CAT, which wasn’t even good enough to get me enrolled into “Sunshine Business School” let alone IIM-A. After this debacle my parents stopped dreaming – probably because it hurt too much to watch dreams shatter.

Now here I am, in a crappy business school cum prison where they lock the college gates to keep students from running away whenever there is a seminar. I have no faith in myself/my capabilities. I can’t remember the last time I did something that I was truly proud of. I am so full of self-loathing and worthlessness that I have stopped seeing the purpose of my existence. The word “hope” has been deleted from my dictionary of words because it means nothing. Hope is merely a way in which we human beings fool ourselves/try to fool ourselves into believing that next time – shit won’t happen, knowing fully well that it will. Hope blindfolds us and helps us overlook reality. But here’s the thing – life is merciless and doesn’t flinch in sending regular “reality cheques”. Hope simply stops us from cashing those cheques! My life hasn’t been anything worth writing about and look how much I’ve managed to write! I don’t know what’s keeping me going – it most certainly is NOT hope.