The Perils of a Medical School Neonate: When Nightmares turn into Dreams...

However long the night, dawn breaks. Every cloud has a silver lining. It is darkest before dawn.
These and many other clichés stay stuck on the four walls of my bedroom, originally meant to motivate me to study, study and study for the exams that were so crucial for the previously career-driven me. With the events of the last week still swimming in my head, all I wanted to do was rip those cute little strips of paper off and scream,"Oh yeah?!" and I would have, if I weren't exhausted from a flight aboard Air India Express followed by a round of verbal dissection by equally tiring relatives.

Life had molded me into an incorrigible pessimist. Who was I to hope for a ray of sunshine while being battered by hailstorms? Every thing pointed only in one direction - down.

To hell with all that, I thought, for if I am to stay exile in India for a year, I'm gonna enjoy every single second I have in the only city I've known in my lifetime to the max. Every second, that is, till the first week of June, when the AIPMT results were scheduled to come out and I was to pack accordingly and leave for PC's version of hell.





So imagine my shock when I'm awakened on the morning of May 24th by my sister's phone call, with a frantic, "Haven't you heard? PMT results are out!" ("Get out! No way... That's 2 weeks premature!")
She let me off with a warning as friends'sisters who were repeaters hadn't made through and she didn't want me shattered by false hopes.
Shaken, I sleepwalk to our desktop, and was about to check out their website when my best friend Ritika's mom calls and confirms that the results are out. She lets me know that she hadn't made it, which further let me down as I was sure if a born-genius like Ritika couldn't make it, I had absolutely no hope.
Nevertheless, just to make sure, I type my roll number, submit and make small talk with Ritika's mom as she too waits over the telephone for my result.

As the page loads, I'm stunned into silence.
"Lamya, are you still there, beta? Got your result?"
"Ah... huh. Um, aunty, yeah. Just came up... Says here I got 1154-"
"Oh. But that's a great rank! I don't know what happened..."

But I wasn't listening anymore. It wasn't happiness I was experiencing. It was relief. Peace. Gratitude. And, survivor's guilt. Ritika and I did everything together - study, fool around, dream. Why the disparity in ranks? Whether or not I was successful in consoling her and motivating her for her next exams, I don't know, but I had a hard enough time convincing myself of the ranks.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had to be convinced.

First person I call is Leena, who is shocked to a rare moment of silence when I let her know.
"... are you sure? I mean, repeaters haven't made it... Hey, don't feel bad for my saying, but can you re-check the page? You might have misread something."
Which I had already done. A zillion times. It just wasn't possible. But there it was, my name, my parents'names, my roll no. and most shocking, my rank well within the required merit. This time, I waited a long while before pinching -if this were a dream, I sure didn't want to wake up.

Mom's reaction wasn't as sugar-coated. Sure, it too started with a 'don't feel bad for my saying...' preamble, she went as far as to say that I might have missed a digit in my rank. Dad and my eldest sister Lubna were elated beyond belief and both kept reminding me that though unlikely, they did have faith in me till the end.


Overnight, my world changed. I wasn't worthless anymore, I was phenomenal. I wasn't sure which was harder to deal with - not getting noticed as much as you desire, or being showered 10 times the attention you deserve.

I finally had an answer to everyone's 'What happened?', 'Neither here nor there' and others. Suddenly, not only was I ready to face anyone, I was anticipating meeting everyone - teachers, classmates, relatives, family friends, enemies - to shine in my moment of glory.


I was on the receiving end of mixed reactions - there were the Sirs at MAS who gave me nothing short of celebrity treatment, and my best friends who made it sound like I aced every single exam I'd attempted. There were those who had no idea what AIPMT stood for and just concluded I'd gotten enough dough to buy myself a seat. I tried my best to stay thick-skinned throughout, despite how tempting it was to show off more than what was necessary. I thanked every one of my mentors, who glowed with pride themselves, congratulating me to no end. I was king of the world, no less.

Soon, there were debates on which college to choose. Who would have ever wondered I would be in a state of confusion over that? Mom and Leena were adamant I study only in Kerala while Dad and Lubi considered the advantages of studying outside as well. I was equally stubborn never to study in 'God's own Country', as I felt I'd be totally out of place there. Endless terms and conditions later, they reluctantly let me choose Stanley Medical College in Chennai, which I felt I had a shot at for the second round of counselling.


Within no time, the dates for the first round of counselling and related information was put up on the official website. A hurried packing and scheduling later, Dad and I were aboard another Air India Express flight to Cochin on a seven-days, six-places trip that was going to be physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting.
Hopping from Cochin to my hometown Kodungalloor within hours of landing, barely 24 hours later saw us speeding to Thrissur Railway station, praying that we don't miss our train to Chennai.
We made it alright, without major scratches and bruises and had more than enough time on the 15-hour long journey to cool down. Whatever for, since the weather in Madras was anything but. Blindingly sunny and scorchingly hot, the weather still was no match for our mood. By the end of the day, when we had visited three medical colleges, the counselling centre and the local markets, we just weren't sure which college to choose. This time not because of the multitude of options available to spoil us. It was the alarming rate at which seats in all those colleges I had set my sights upon were vanishing. The night before my counselling session, I found myself crying to sleep, not very different a pattern from the eve of the AIPMT final exam.

The next day saw me in a fix. The only two colleges that fulfilled our conditions were Tirunveli Medical College in Tamil Nadu and Mysore Medical College in Karnataka both 3 hours by road from Leena and Lubna in Trivandrum and Bangalore respectively. Mom and Leena were all for me attending the former, while Dad and Lubi just won't listen to anything but the latter, to which my own heart was leaning, despite there remaining just 4 seats... Finally the hot-tempered ones in the family triumphed as I mentally prepared myself to select MMC&RI, last-minute calls to an intern there notwithstanding.

Striding into the building, I ensured I had all the required documents and sat in front of the notorious TV screen that would announce our selections, rejections and the seats remaining. Meanwhile Dad introduced me to a few of his contacts and their brilliant children whose universal taming of various entrance exams shadowed my single achievement yet again.

Disregarding my incurable low self-esteem, I slowly trace my steps upstairs when my number is called out. I am among the first two candidates that day. I keep talking to the next rank-holder who would be selecting the same college, albeit with no intention of attending it.
What seemed like eons later, I was called up to the table to make my selection.

4 seats still remaining in MMC&RI and I had made up my mind. Things ought to go smooth now. Until...

"Where did you do your XIIth standard?"
A mild expletive ran through my head.
"Um...I'm sorry, what?"
I had heard the question right - they had a little issue with the fact that I hadn't studied in India at all the last 14 years.
"How did you write the AIPMT? Were you even eligible?"
Despite knowing deep down that I was the sole claimant to that seat, I sat on the verge of hyperventilating and going into shock. Seeing my stunned silence, they contact the concerned authorities in Delhi to confirm. I break into silent prayer hoping that all that vanity parade hadn't led to a downfall of sorts.

The magic words zap me back into the present:
"No, that's alright. There are many NRI students in our CBSE schools in the Gulf region..."
I don't wait to hear the rest. I'm mentally back on my knees, thanking God profusely and seeking forgiveness for any negligence shown in expressing my gratitude hitherto.

The man sitting across me at the table apologetically inquires about my schooling and coaching history. When I reveal that I had attended a 2 month long crash course in Kerala, alongwith once-a-week class back in Abu Dhabi, he is beyond impressed that I managed the feat of clearing the exam the first time itself.

All the formalities later, I was on my way back to the hotel, now officially eligible to a seat for MBBS in Mysore Medical College and Research Institute. The same night, we vacated our hotel room and fought for our seats on a bus to Bangalore, where I would be reunited with my sister and her husband. After spending a day there, starting a passionate love affair with the city that was complexed with my vehement refusal to tolerate its people, we set off to Mysore as soon as possible, having secured the eligibility certificate, physical fitness certificate and other requirements by all means necessary.
The road trip was one of the best I've experienced in the country. Beautiful four-laned roads lined by lush greenery, I was really excited about my first glance of the college.


Except, the minute we arrive in Mysore, the college is nowhere to be seen. It was only a few phone calls later that we realized we had already passed by the reputed institution three times without knowing it.
As soon as I saw it, I wish I never had. The first thing I notice is the absence of any unbroken windows. Then I marvel at the architectural superiority of the palace-style buildings, for its capability to withstand tonnes of dust. The endless stretch of construction on the way to the weed-concealed Women's hostel did little to improve my impression either.
In short, it was hatred at first sight. I was already dying for the dates for the second counselling. Stanley, babe, wait for me.

Not one to waste time, we rush back to Kerala where we as good as head straight to the Airport and back to the Garden city of UAE.

-Interval-

The Perils of a Medical School Neonate - Prologue

Just the word was enough to make my heart flutter. Millions of warnings and prospects of sleepless nights wouldn't budge my steely determination to make it big in my chosen career. Textbooks in Physics, Chemistry and Math lay neglected as I pore over articles, excerpts, anything and everything related to my favored subject, dreaming of the day when I'd actually be required to regard this act of pleasure as a task of duty. Addiction, Obsession, Stupidity - call it what you may. I was in love. Until the day I stepped into college - Mysore Medical College and Research Institute, to be specific.

Now, I can't stand it.

----

The chapters in the drama that was my school life drew to an uneventful close, as I had to jump to the next stage within a blink of the eye. Taking off to India the very day my Finals got over, I hardly had time to reminisce about an era gone by. Indeed, it was regarding the next that my mind was racing. With barely a month and half in my hand to combat two years' worth of portions, I was at the mercy of PC Thomas Entrance Coaching classes. My knowledge in every other sphere was a bare minimum, but this I knew - I would not while away my time for the next 40-something days like I had, the previous 24 months.

Four chances - that was all I had. The only other not-so-attractive alternative (i.e. repeat a year) forced me to toil among a pack of wild wolves let loose after a grueling round of board exams. I was learning the hard way the meanings of hard work, sacrifice and isolation.
The first exam was also the scariest - the All-India Pre-Medical Test, the number of kids attempting which looked more like an International phone number. The picture wasn't pretty. I prepared like my life depended on it, which in a way wasn't really an exaggeration; I ate, slept and lived the 30-something chapters per subject in an environment that was as discouraging as the Tundra is to Wheat farmers. Stressed out, I cried myself to sleep by 7 PM on the eve of the exam, right after I'd screamed my heads off at anybody within a mile's radius, only to come to at midnight, frantic about the tonnes of portions still left to cover. Up until the 9 AM mark I was supposed to be present in the exam hall, I kept flipping pages, trying to cram in anything compact enough to squeeze into my overwhelmed head. That night, back in PC's hostel, I wasn't sure whether to be relieved the exam wasn't as as bad as I'd feared or to be bothered by the new ray of hope that could make me overconfident enough to face a steep drop later.

My next exam preparation saw me slogging off just a bit, exhausted from the mini-marathon I ran for the previous one. Needless to say, as the dates loomed closer, I started sweating buckets again and was forced to seek sanctuary at my aunt's place to study in peace. That's where I got the news that, unlikely though it seemed otherwise, I'd managed to clear the first round of AIPMT. Jubilated, I was able to stand on firmer ground for this one. The first paper went alright but I was disappointed in myself for forgetting a couple of important formulas. So I kept my cool with the next one in sight - Biology, for which I was determined to score 100%, deaf to the wailing choir groups in the chapel next to our dorm, numb to my peers'noses poking into my business, blind to the final layers of injustice being patted on me. Five very costly mistakes reawakened my senses the next day.

Preparations for the next exam - AIPMT Finals - were the worst. First I dared to think I had a shot. The first model exam over at PC burst my bubble as fast as it was formed. IIT-level questions had me questioning my IQ, my confidence dipping an all-time low. Giving in to pressure I finally did exactly what I was determined not to - I packed my stuff, said my goodbyes and left the place once and for all. Back in my aunt's house, I hoped to get back the momentum I possessed for the prelims but with no luck.
All hope lost, the eve of this exam I didn't cry myself to sleep.

I cried in my sleep.

On May 16, 2010 - My little sister turned 12 years old. My schedule, meanwhile, ran as below:
Woke up - got dressed - drove to the exam centre - saw the place - walked to the nearby restaurant brimming with successful candidates of AIPMT Prelims along with their equally anxious parents - forced 2 stale idlis down my throat - last minute phone calls and pep talks and prayers - slow walk to the exam hall like I was on death row - quickened paces up the stairs only to avoid overhearing any last minute revisions - locating my seat right next to the door at the very front of the room and settling down - decide to let go and accept my fate; 'this just wasn't meant to be, so let's just have a little fun with this paper' - 9.50 AM: I'm handed the OMR sheet followed by the question paper (A series) shortly.

I had the greatest shock of my life! The paper was easier than I could have ever hoped for! Pinching myself several times at different intensities, I sailed through the paper (facing storms in the form of two invigilators suffering from verbal diarrhea and a bench-mate on vibrating mode) even getting an extra ten minutes to give the only three questions I couldn't get answers to a last shot.
I walked out a much happier person than when I was walking in, albeit with a pinch of regret - the easier the paper, exponentially was the growth in competition.
Oh well, at least I tried.

My regrets didn't end there. The Kerala Entrance Exam results were out the next day. And who but an uncle, who forced my roll number out of me, should let me know I hadn't made it. 1530. Pretty number, useless rank. I tried to smile amidst my tears, but wasn't superhuman enough to. I let everyone down, academically and emotionally.
Barely days later, my board exam marks too were out - better than I expected. What I also hadn't anticipated was for anyone and everyone to score 90+ percentages making my measly 84% measlier.
Just what I needed, a reason to get moody.

The next two exams - writing entirely for formality's sake as my parents had no plan of sending me to Manipal if I passed the first and I had no impossible dream about passing the second, the Amrita University exam - went in a blur and soon it was time for me, free bird, to finally fly home and even the news of an Air India Express crash in Manglore couldn't dampen my mood by a large margin.


I touched down in Abu Dhabi International Airport with a heavy heart indeed.
A visit to relatives' houses was highlighted with comments like, 'Oh, what happened?', 'Neither here, nor there, huh?' and 'So, when will you be going back for repeating the year?'

For that was the not-so-bright future looming in full view. I had already joined the batch of 2010 at Professor PC Thomas'Coaching classes , bought my books and was on the waiting list for the hostel room, despite having fallen at my parents'feet to let me join Manipal instead as that exam had gone well enough to give me solid hope.

Naturally, they had said no.

My visit, which I'd hoped would lead to rebirth, instead looked like the end of me.

Might as well have looked forward to a breath-taking funeral.

10 days before senior year....

“High school is like the training wheels for the bicycle of real life.”
Ghost World (2001) – Graduation Speaker (Rini Bell)

“High school - those are your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that.”
Little Miss Sunshine (2006) – Frank Ginsberg (Steve Carell)

“I don't know what it is about going to high school with someone that makes you feel you're automatically friends for life.”
Tequila Sunrise (1988) – Gregg Lindroff (Arliss Howard)

“I bet in high school, everybody made somebody's life hell.”
Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion (1997) – Michele Weinberger (Lisa Kudrow)

Ask anyone something positive about high school, and you'd be lucky to get anything besides 'friends' - and that too can be a rare response for some.
For many of us, high school's just a fancy name for prison, asylum, or any other institution infamous for justifying the torture it inflicts its inmates.
Sure, there are others who find the above analogy quite exaggerated, but then, it's always easier said than done; easier being a witness than a victim.


My experience in high school was, thankfully, not so bad. Like a roller coaster ride it had its ups and downs; it both thrilled and terrified me at times, made no sense at all at others, but hopefully will be something to be proud of in retrospect.

Joining ADIS in 2006 was one of the smarter choices I've made in my scholastic life. Not leaving it in 2008 could end up being the biggest blunder I commit.

But leaving all regrets aside, I'm gearing up for what I hope to be my final year in high school.
More than a wish list, this is a blog on mistakes I pray I'll not repeat in the academic year of 2009-2010.

Now, why the year is so important is self-explanatory, but how is it important?

First comes my passionate desire of becoming a doctor - internal medicine, pediatrics, endocrinology, cardiology, oncology, etc. being my current choice of specialties/ super-specialties.
For one to get the very best of medical education in India, government colleges are a sure-bet. Not only do they receive the most outstanding quantity and quality of cases, the entire experience paves way for an easier access towards better post-graduate courses.
However these prestigious institutions welcome only those who're prepared to study their heads off for the entrance exams which is just as easy as cycling backwards in the endless Dubai traffic, hands-free & blindfolded, making it through unscathed. No, actually, it's worse.

So, unless I'm ready for that, I'll be tossed aside like stinking laundry into an ocean of rejects with shattered dreams. Naturally, that is NOT what I want.



Next comes the navigation through the various emotional whirlpools we'd be thrown into, the coming session. Senior year will be filled with lots of nasty revelations that remind you this is the last year you'll be home in Abu Dhabi. They'll keep hitting you painfully like hailstones, but it'll all remain surreal till past the very end.

12th grade will also be completed with infinite number of 'goodbye's, 'I'll miss you's, and 'till we meet again', each accentuated by streams of tears and bittersweet smiles. Amidst the looming board exam panic will be the frantic exchange of autographs - signing each others' shirts, filling everyone's books with cheesy messages from your teachers, best friends, classmates, bus buddies, anybody who was somebody, irregardless of whether it's a person you loved, hated, never heard of or secretly admired.

As soon as the major headache of board exams comes to pass, half of us will divert happily towards blissful rest & celebration till the results, while the other half (which I belong to) struggle to get in line to give what may be one of the biggest official tests in our lives - entrance exams. Jumping at the opportunity to write each and every exam that comes our way, the one common trait to be found in all these students would be stress from lack of confidence.

After all, who can blame us?

Pitted against 100,000 immensely intelligent, totally hard-working and often well-deserving candidates, who not only had the advantage of studying in a deadly competitive atmosphere, but could also be coached under teachers and institutes with valuable experience, UAE CBSE students vs. students in India is like letting a mouse wrestle an elephant. The only safe option is to flee, but that means running away from our coveted prize which was the only reason we went through hell in the first place. So, the safe choice isn't an option at all in reality and thus, chasing our dreams instead of running away from fears, we have to bite the bullet and take the risk.

Again, entrance exams are only as hard as one makes it out to be. Instead of focusing on the studying itself, if one gets carried away by the enormity of the task ahead, inevitably, the difficulty of passing the exams will rise exponentially. Instead, by accepting the truth that we're all in the same boat - but at different levels - trying to make it ashore in one piece, there can be some hope of getting through. Unfortunately, this is where I falter the most.


Final year means the final chance to do a lot of things. It'll be the last time I can participate in the Talent's Day, Annual Day, bid adieu to school with admirable grades, fool around (& get into trouble) at P.T., go for various quizzes(one of the bittersweet events in 11th grade), etc. Sure, these will be around in college too, but who knows whether I would want to, be able to or have the time & energy to take part in all those activities?

This year will be the last episode in this high school drama; so no matter how good the plot was till now, the ending determines the success of it all. It'll also mark our landing in to the real world, which will sweep us along with the tide whether we're ready for it or not. It's up to us either to learn swimming this year and survive, or drown in that sea of madness.

Everybody wants to leave their mark in the world - but how many of us will truly sacrifice everything to achieve that greatness? All of us want a piece of incredible success - but how many of us want a share of the sleepless nights, the painful efforts and the struggling journey? We've all been fed clichés of 'can't have your cake and eat it too', yet we never ponder over the truth of the statement.

In short, it's way past time we woke up from this slumber and stand up to what is required of us. Darn right it's boring, hectic, annoying, etc. but that won't count in your college application. You won't get a degree just because you were the most popular kid in the city. You can't get 6-figure salaries by sitting pretty the entire year, complaining like someone 60 years your senior.
Absolutely no one cares if you were the trendsetter, faithful follower or the rebellious outcast of the school; at least not unless you can prove yourself by achieving the best of what counts. The reality is harsh and the truth hurts, but it's way better heard than actually felt.


So, first and foremost as a reminder to myself, 'If you want your dreams to come true, wake up...'

Here's wishing for a happy ending to this 14-chapter story!

A New Beginning...

Life as a teenager is too far away - ask any 9-year-old.
Life as a teenager is confusing - for every 12-year-old.
Life as a teenager is hell - pipe in 14-year-olds.
Life as a teenager is fun- any 16-year-old will agree.
Life as a teenager is hectic -lament every 17-year-old

Life still as a teenager is hard - 19-year-olds will point out.
Life as a teenager was easy - 25-year-olds may claim.
Teenage was the best stage of life - Say all who cross 45.

Different views, different phases, different lives. Yet possibly, the same person.
So what is that makes adolescence agony for the teenagers, and bliss for the rest?

As a 17-year-old still intimidated by life's little obstacles, silenced by nature's endless wonders, enraged by the world's worst crimes and motivated by the most incredible achievements, it still remains an unsolved mystery and threatens to remain so.
Whatever may be the reason, the process and the consequence, the truth remains that one can always find solace in expressing themselves - be it through speaking, writing or even bursts of intense emotions.

That is where my latest blog comes in...


There are few things in life that I'm passionate about.
Religion, Family, Friends & Love, Health & Medicine, the Environment and Writing are just some examples.
I'm an introvert by nature and am quite incapable of speaking out, though my proficiency in the English language has never posed a problem. But despite all my apparent silence and indifference to the world around me, the only thing I've ever dared to be confident of is my efficiency to write down exactly what I feel. Maybe it's the security in knowing that I can always think before I write, edit my work before publishing and still correct my mistakes once committed - I may not know why I resort to the pen, or rather the keys of my keyboard, but I do believe it to be my best, and sometimes the only, outlet to my innermost emotions, feelings and anxiety.

Diaries were never an option, e-mails are too messy and social networking sites are hardly ever big scorers in the privacy department. So, like I said earlier, LI's Lair is born... (Lame name for Lamya's blog - but lately I'm big on alliteration and nothing else seemed to makes sense - as if what I just said did)

I now officially declare http://emiratindian.blogspot.com open.

Let the Countdown Begin...