This is no longer my autobiography...

Hey, if you're looking for that, it's here...in case you cannot access it, please do mail me at bikramsnehi@gmail.com so I can do the needful...

Prelude

More difficult than the evening, perhaps, is the morning after. Even for me, sleep was hard to come by and after having tossed and turned all night, cursing myself with the choicest of abuses, feeling jaded, waking up to the sight of my mum setting up breakfast despite it all, was the most difficult day that I have ever woken up to. I guess I should’ve expected something like this, after all, it’s been a life-long pursuit of mine, shooting myself in the foot…to make matters worse, I opened my eyes to my dad sitting in my room reading the newspaper the way dads do, reading glasses half way down the nose, sitting in the warmth of the morning sunlight trickling through the window. I could only imagine the concern going through his mind for me. After lounging in bed for as long as I could feigning sleep, I finally relented and mustered up enough courage to sit up in bed.

“Good morning son, mumma’s made noodles for breakfast, freshen up soon.” Trust him to break the ice with nonchalance!

Well, at least my dad was taking this well. I replied with the necessary formalities and forced myself to get into the bathroom. I’d find solitude on the pot for the a little while at least, contemplating on my next step, weighing the options I had left out open to me. Not too many things left in hand for me admittedly, at least none of the choices I had planned for myself over the past couple of months. On the other hand, with things so bad down the hill, it could only get better…perhaps now I could devote my energies in pursuing some of those wild dreams of mine…maybe be the maverick and push myself to new limits. Maybe even…hmmm…maybe I oughta get off the pot and face my parents…

“Good morning mumma…”

“Good morning beta…don’t worry about anything alright, we’ll see what is to be done. It’s just a road bump, there’ll be something new to come from all of this. Keep your spirits high…I made you hakka noodles to cheer you up…the way you like ‘em!”

Trust mom to be subtle!

Oh well! So that leaves me glum at the breakfast table with dad in all his nonchalance and mom with all her subtlety. And the million calls from all those friends asking for updates…well, at least the calls gave me an opportunity to run away into my room.

69.7% was what the deal was…that’s what I scored in the HSC examinations. Whilst everyone boasted of their fabulous marks I sulked…felt like an idiot and out of place. When you’re in 12^th in Poona, there are two dreams most people have – engineering or medicine. To be in the fray for either in a half decent college, you need at least 85% which considering the fact that I was 15.3% short of, made both options seem distant and delusional. Guess I had no one but myself to blame.

Took me a day to come to terms with the situation and the next day, I was out filling forms for B.Sc. at Fergi. It was the whole gang basically so I thought this should be fun for a few days at least. College began a week later and I was back to being myself. The time at Fergi was fun…the classes were scheduled in the afternoons at 2:30 and the basketball courts opened at 4. We pretty much settled in the schedule and attended the first lecture till 3:30, bunking the classes after to head out and play basketball.

It was during this time, that I began toying with the idea of pursuing a career in media, more specifically in written journalism. I was encouraged further by the lectures in psychology in the Arts department that I sneaked into. I decided after much deliberation with myself to pursue Arts. I bought the form and filled it up and well, obviously it needed my parents consent. I discussed it out with dad and he said as long as I knew what I was doing and if I really thought it was something I could do I was free to pursue it. He took his pen and was about to give his consent in ink when mom walked in to the room. She asked me what it was about and when I informed her it was the form for Arts, she came over, had a glance at it, tore it in half and handed it back to me. Not a word said, not a word heard…

~Sigh~ Here’s the deal. My grandma was a doctor, the rest of my family had pretty much followed suit. My mom would be damned if she’d let any of her kids pursue any stream of education that did not have something to do with science. That was the day it was deemed I was pursuing engineering…with my marks and more by some grace I managed a seat in a half decent college…the rest…well, it isn’t history yet but I reckon it should be!

Fate and moms…who can fight them?