The Day I Failed. It sounds a bit synonymous to The Day The Earth Stood Still. Or the Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Or Failures. Well, the earth did stand still for a second or two for me when I realized that I had failed. Not just my exams but my parents, my family. The realization that I will have to crack open yet again the never-ending syllabus and study while all my other friends are out celebrating their good results. The epiphany of facing college (read Azkaban), the stares and the whispers and the none too quick to appear questions about my grades, the quizzical looks at me *Seriously, YOU got failed*, the never-ending litany of barrage directed towards me and yes, the Earth was completely still at that time but my legs just didn't co-operate. I got into bed and cried my heart out; for all the hard-work that I had put in, the expectations of my family, the happier days, the wishes I had so needlessly asked Him. I cried so much I was hiccuping badly, feeling desperately sorry for myself. And suddenly, I didn't want to cry anymore. I didn't feel sad or even ashamed. The truth was out and sooner or later I had to accept it. I had failed. And no amount of tears shed were going to change this fact.
I lay in bed, my will to get up had disappeared. Wanting to avoid a confrontation, I informed my aunt by text. Seemed like a harmless thing to do *Hey! You know about that exam I gave in January? Evidently, I did not pass. Sincerely, your daughter who tries too hard* I lost track of time after that.
She came up the stairs to my room, where I lay on my bed like unflushed piss "Janu kuch nai hota. Bhool jao isko (This doesn't matter. Forget about it). This isn't the end of the world." While she was saying this I searched her eyes for disappointment, chagrin, anything. But all I saw was disappointment for me. For all my hard work and drudgery and the battle that I was still fighting. When she went away, I cried for the last time. But not for the aftermath of my exams, but for the love and support I could always accept from my family. Always.Thus, swallowing the bitter pill, I must learn something from a 13-year old cover girl, Talia, who on being asked about living with cancer said when she was still alive;
I lay in bed, my will to get up had disappeared. Wanting to avoid a confrontation, I informed my aunt by text. Seemed like a harmless thing to do *Hey! You know about that exam I gave in January? Evidently, I did not pass. Sincerely, your daughter who tries too hard* I lost track of time after that.
She came up the stairs to my room, where I lay on my bed like unflushed piss "Janu kuch nai hota. Bhool jao isko (This doesn't matter. Forget about it). This isn't the end of the world." While she was saying this I searched her eyes for disappointment, chagrin, anything. But all I saw was disappointment for me. For all my hard work and drudgery and the battle that I was still fighting. When she went away, I cried for the last time. But not for the aftermath of my exams, but for the love and support I could always accept from my family. Always.Thus, swallowing the bitter pill, I must learn something from a 13-year old cover girl, Talia, who on being asked about living with cancer said when she was still alive;
"Well, a little fish told me to just keep swimming."
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