I was eagerly awaiting the results of my Masters. This would open up a world of opportunities for me, or so i thought. The advertisement industry did not mind my marks, but respected my talent. It was a different matter that it became a major lesson in my life about self-respect. (Read about it: http://murgibaba.blogspot.in/2013/02/nightmare-on-first-job-street-part-1.html)
From there, i tried joining call centers and data entry jobs. I would take my marks card, and return home dejected. "You are over-qualified for the job", "Why don't you try in the media sector?". I needed a job, not advice. Money was my priority, and i did not want to be a burden on my parents. The more i ran behind money, the worse it would get. Depression and laziness crept in. Advice from all quarters poured in, and i became increasingly short on temper and heavy on body fat. I had rejected jobs at reputed educational institutions on gut instinct, and faced flak for it. Finally, i landed in a call center. I had accepted this as my future, or lack of it, as it was from 12 AM-5 AM shift.
My friend called me and informed me that my name was on the Gold Medalist list. It is always released a few months after the results are out. It is usually mired in controversy, politics and boot licking. I had got it based on sheer hard work and was pleased with myself. A night into the job, i walked out of the cabin, leaving behind a furious and fuming HR.
As news spread, calls poured in. No one expected that a BSc graduate, who went against the norms and joined Master of Arts, would end up with a gold medal. I was taken back myself. I had to start from scratch. I had no idea of Journalism, while my classmates had done BA, Honors or had work experience. I had to use the principles i was taught in Science and apply them to Arts, the most important of them being what my teacher, Mrs Syeda Farhana had taught me: never accept anything less than perfect. The same teacher had sparkles in her eyes when she saw the gold medal. She was pleased, as were my other teachers.
My sister was so happy for me. She supported me throughout my Masters. My mother ensured every house in the neighborhood heard of my achievement, even the helps and drivers. She went on a temple thanking spree.
Advice turned to alliance, and Shaadi.com seemed a joke with the sheer amount of proposals i was getting. Neighbors poured in with sweets and congratulations. Guests at our restaurant were informed and they wished me luck too. I was on cloud 9.
On the day of the convocation, a year later, i was in line with my classmates. Crawford Hall echoed with applause as we made our way towards the podium. Anil Kumble, along with the Vice Chancellor was awaiting with our gold medals in hand. The Governor had left in the morning.
I scanned at the hundreds of eyes looking upon us, and searched for mum too, and there she was, right in the front. I went up, took a deep breath and had a good look at the people. I wanted to savor this moment. Two years of hard work, and one year of struggle and depression had brought me to this moment. I squared my shoulders, folded my hands and bent down in respect to the dignitaries. I shook hands with all of them, and received my medal. As i stepped down from the podium, a huge sense of relief came over me, and i felt light. It was as if i was given a new beginning. I had found my way again.
From there, i tried joining call centers and data entry jobs. I would take my marks card, and return home dejected. "You are over-qualified for the job", "Why don't you try in the media sector?". I needed a job, not advice. Money was my priority, and i did not want to be a burden on my parents. The more i ran behind money, the worse it would get. Depression and laziness crept in. Advice from all quarters poured in, and i became increasingly short on temper and heavy on body fat. I had rejected jobs at reputed educational institutions on gut instinct, and faced flak for it. Finally, i landed in a call center. I had accepted this as my future, or lack of it, as it was from 12 AM-5 AM shift.
My friend called me and informed me that my name was on the Gold Medalist list. It is always released a few months after the results are out. It is usually mired in controversy, politics and boot licking. I had got it based on sheer hard work and was pleased with myself. A night into the job, i walked out of the cabin, leaving behind a furious and fuming HR.
As news spread, calls poured in. No one expected that a BSc graduate, who went against the norms and joined Master of Arts, would end up with a gold medal. I was taken back myself. I had to start from scratch. I had no idea of Journalism, while my classmates had done BA, Honors or had work experience. I had to use the principles i was taught in Science and apply them to Arts, the most important of them being what my teacher, Mrs Syeda Farhana had taught me: never accept anything less than perfect. The same teacher had sparkles in her eyes when she saw the gold medal. She was pleased, as were my other teachers.
My sister was so happy for me. She supported me throughout my Masters. My mother ensured every house in the neighborhood heard of my achievement, even the helps and drivers. She went on a temple thanking spree.
Advice turned to alliance, and Shaadi.com seemed a joke with the sheer amount of proposals i was getting. Neighbors poured in with sweets and congratulations. Guests at our restaurant were informed and they wished me luck too. I was on cloud 9.
On the day of the convocation, a year later, i was in line with my classmates. Crawford Hall echoed with applause as we made our way towards the podium. Anil Kumble, along with the Vice Chancellor was awaiting with our gold medals in hand. The Governor had left in the morning.
I scanned at the hundreds of eyes looking upon us, and searched for mum too, and there she was, right in the front. I went up, took a deep breath and had a good look at the people. I wanted to savor this moment. Two years of hard work, and one year of struggle and depression had brought me to this moment. I squared my shoulders, folded my hands and bent down in respect to the dignitaries. I shook hands with all of them, and received my medal. As i stepped down from the podium, a huge sense of relief came over me, and i felt light. It was as if i was given a new beginning. I had found my way again.
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