The PG entrance exam results were gonna be declared early that morning . I hadn’t done too well in the theory held about a month ago , though the interview a couple of days earlier did go pretty smooth . Today’s result would decide if I would be able to go onto the next stage of my medical career and spend the next few years of my life as a Postgraduate trainee , or if I’d have to go back to a coaching centre , having ‘lost’ a year before managing to overcome a hurdle in my quest to becoming a full time consultant as an Orthopaedic surgeon .
While at high school , I don’t know why , but I hated Social Studies . Could do anything to run away from it . I fell in love – with Maths . I would gladly do all the sums and equations , when my friends would keep complaining . Sometimes even sneaking on my older brothers’ textbooks and trying to solve those questions too . Being able to calculate , without using a pen or paper , used to give me a high . Scoring cent percent was never a problem . I even hoped one day I could come up with a famous mathematical formula or a theorem , like Pythagoras , a name which I and my friends found very interesting . I would dream of getting into IIT and the likes , and becoming a well-known mathematician . But there was a problem , I enjoyed Science too . Learning about animals , trees and foliage , the human body was equally interesting too . I was split between them both , always wondering which stream to go for .
The education system in the state , after 10th standard , would allow you to choose either between Maths or Science as the mainstream , not both . I had to make a choice . Mom and dad , both working as mission hospital doctors , however much they tried , could sometimes not help discussing patient matters while at home . And there was a definite palpable joy whenever they talked about a sick patient who did well against expectations . I also knew Dad was always hopeful that one among his 3 sons would take up medicine , though he never openly said it . Sorry Maths , please find your own Pythagoras II , I’m going the science way , I had decided .
Next hurdle – Dad wanted me to study in Hyderabad where the colleges were better suited for those taking the maths or Arts route . I had already spoken to a lot of seniors and friends , done my own research in the pre-google era as to which were the better colleges for the science stream and had made up my mind to study in Guntur . He said ‘ Day Scholar, will be much easier for us to keep a track on you , and will also be the cheaper option ‘ but I said ‘ Nothing doing , hostel life starts for me now , I’m gonna have to stay focused if I want to get into medical college , I’m gonna stay in hostel ‘ He was not happy , but as I had done relatively well in the exams I could choose where I wanted to go and I had my way .
After 12th , I got called for an interview at a prestigious minority medical college in Tamilnadu , South India . Dad wanted me to stick to the government seat which had opened up in Hyderabad . He believed I would be able to handle things much better independantly , would acquire better long term life skills if I studied in a not-so well established medical college . He felt a tougher life as a young student would make you stronger to face life’s challenges. I refused , point blank , to even go for the Hyderabad interview .
Both Mom and dad went with me for the MBBS interviews . On the second day , during individual tasks-to-be-done , we had to decode a cryptic message and weave a colourful basket with the raw material provided . The former was a breeze , while the latter was a brilliant mess , for me atleast . I remember many who had weaved beautiful baskets , whilst I left all the stuff exactly the way it had been provided . I was kicking myself for not having paid attention to art and craft classes in school . But no point crying over spilt milk , the damage had already been done . Got back to the hotel in the evening , and confessed to my parents that I didn’t think I would make it , coz I hadn’t even managed to weave even one strand of the basket . Dad immediately asked if he should book 3 tickets to go back home , but I said ‘ No daddy , 2 will do . I will be staying back in vellore ‘ I wasn’t at all sure I would get in , but I wasn’t going to let him get away with that pessimistic comment . However much he tried to discourage me , knowingly or unknowingly , I learnt over the years to not take it lying down . The results were declared and I , thankfully , got in . And I still remember his first comment to mom after the results were out ‘ You know , now we don’t need to bother about him for the next 5 years . He will be our ‘ cheapest ‘ son . ‘ He was not wrong , the fee charged at Vellore was very nominal , for the kind of education and quality training that one gets , and my expenses were atleast 10 times lesser compared to my brothers’ fees .
Dad had a good sense of humour too . During the interviews , we were required to pin up our allotted numbers both on the front and back of our shirts throughout the assessment period of 3 days , we would only be identified by those numbers not our names , and everyday he would ask – ‘Beta If you don’t get in , do you think we could sue the institute for these unnecessary holes in your shirt , irrespective of their size ‘ . After getting into college , we the new students had lined up to pay the fee at the counter , while all parents were required to stay well away . As soon-to-be batchmates , those of us in the queue were trying to get to know the others and I happened to meet an attractive young girl from my previous college in Guntur , wearing a dark brown salwar-kameez and a nice pair of stylish sandals , except that she had studied in the exclusive girls’ campus so there was no way we could have met . It was good chatting about the lecturers who taught us , and the classes they took , the food in the mess etc etc . When she went in to the office to pay her fee, as I was still waiting my turn in the queue , Dad came running to me , ‘ Remember beta , your primary aim here for the next 5 years is to study , everything else can wait ‘ and he quickly sneaked away with a wicked smile on his face .
The next 5 years was a joy ride . I was fortunate to be part of a wonderful batch of 60 . We fought , we argued , we played , we ‘ got fixed ‘ ( equivalent of having found a soul-mate , temporary or long-term only time would tell ) we swore , we won quite a few , and lost a couple of inter-batch competitions , but through it all we stayed together . We still are close-knit as a batch, touchwood . I was fortunate to have found friends for life in those 5 years , and this is true not just for me but for everyone in the batch . Everytime I went home for holidays , Dad would gently remind me not to get ‘fixed’ to any of the pretty girls in my batch , for reasons best known to him .
I wasn’t brilliant in college , but did reasonably alright , got through the five and a half years of undergraduate training . As jovial as he was , Dad could be very mean too . When angry , he could easily bring the roof down , it would be best not to be seen anywhere around him . I remember he almost beat up an autorickshaw driver who irritated him by commenting nastily about the size of the suitcase he was carrying . I better crack the exam , or else he’s gonna have a crack at me for sure I thought .
The day had finally arrived , the PG entrance results were declared that morning , and I was elated to see my name on the board , but the ecstasy was short-lived . I was first on the waiting list . Even an Indian Railways waiting list seat may move from 150 to get confirmed , but a PG seat being given up by someone who had got in was almost unheard of . I was terribly upset , but it wasn’t the end of the world . I wasn’t the types who’d cry for not getting in . I spoke to Mom , and I knew she would not be too worried coz she always believed in me , but I also knew this was the first time I’ve given Dad a chance to have a full blown swipe at me . I just didn’t feel like talking to him .
I made a list of the barrage of complaints and criticism that would follow – right from school days till now . Dad never missed a chance to remind me that it was me who had chosen not to be a day-scholar , not to go to Hyderabad , and not to take up a government college seat . He would say ‘ You have decided a lot of things yourself , only the day you land in trouble you’ll realise the value of my suggestions and advice , which you’ve always conveniently thrown into the bin’ . Today was that day . It was almost as if he was waiting for me to fail , to give me an earful , to bombard me to his heart’s content .
Whatever he says , I was gonna put up a bold face and answer every ill-tempered query of his . “ Yes it was my decision , and I still stand by it Daddy . Ok if not here , I’ll get in somewhere else , or I’ll prepare for another year and crack the exam next year . This is not the end of the road for me , I know myself better than you , I know what I can and cannot do , and this is just a small break in my plans , that’s all . Please don’t give me a long lecture , I’m in no mood for that . I’m a grown up , you can leave me alone “ I had my defence ready .
I finally called him ‘ Beta , what happened ‘ and I said ‘ No daddy , I didn’t make it ‘ He was in a conversation with Mom when his phone rang , I knew she hadn’t told him about the result , and I thought I heard him say ‘ what’s for breakfast ‘ How I wish he had said this , but I knew he hadn’t heard me clearly . I repeated myself , dejectedly ‘ No Daddy , I didn’t get in ‘ . Without any delay he answered ‘ Oh yes I heard you beta. That’s fine , but you haven’t answered me yet , what’s for breakfast, my dear ‘missed-the-boat’ Pythagoras .’ The exam results didn’t matter anymore . He may have considered me his ‘ cheapest’ son , but for me at this moment , he was the world’s richest dad . I cried , I wept , not for the results but for having totally misunderstood him .
Its been hardly a month since I started writing for this blog of mine , but I wish I had begun atleast 3 years ago . I was terribly busy that week , had picked up the phone to call Dad , but it was quite late in the night when I got home from the operation theatre . “ Ok , I’ll give him a ring tomorrow “ and I went to bed , but that tomorrow never came . I was woken up at 4.30 AM on a Friday by my brother , to the devastating news that dad had passed away in his sleep . ‘ We’ve lost him ra , second heart attack’ .
Dad was not perfect , infact many times I would argue with him on various matters . Some things he did I never approved of . But he was Dad , and that was good enough reason for me to be proud of him . It’s soon gonna be his 3rd death anniversary , and I still terribly miss him . We all do – my mom , brothers and our families . It’s like a void that is extremely difficult to fill . ‘ I should have woken you up that night , even if it was past 11 . I’m sorry for that night Daddy , This one’s for you ‘
My son is still in primary school , and he has a long way to go . There will , understandably , be lots of hurdles and obstacles in his journey . I would never wish him failure , but if he were to stumble along the path and his plans go for a temporary toss , I sincerely hope I can be there for him and ask him whole-heartedly ‘ what’s for breakfast , beta .‘