I belonged to a small village in Saharanpur. No one had ever dreamed in my village that one day a boy like me could become a doctor. My humble origin as a son of a poor farmer was enough to deter my aspirations. But I never allowed my poverty to determine my future and by sheer hard work I got admission in a big medical college in Delhi.
That day my whole village was lit up as if it were Diwali. Baring a few jealous relatives everyone was delighted at my success and the joy of my parents knew no bounds. I too felt exhilarated at my achievement.
“Now my life would take a big leap,” I thought.
The day I arrived at my college I found myself in an alien environment and out of league of my urban counterparts. They felt it derogatory to talk to me. Somehow, I got a room on sharing basis in the hospital’s hostel with a boy of Mumbai who frowned after meeting me thus making his intentions clear to me. He was shocked by my way of life. He found my habits weird and my clothes absurd.
Yes, it was true my clothes were absurd, lacking in style, but how could I ever afford to buy expensive clothes like him? He tried his best to avoid me, ignoring me like the rest of the college.
Then one day my father came to pay a visit to me with a few friends of his to show them how well his son has fared in life. My father’s humble clothes of kurta and dhoti and his rustic language made me a laughing stock for the whole of the college for a full week. Even my teachers did not spare me.
I could not find any outlet for my pent up emotions as there was no one belonging to a poor family or rural background who could understand my misery. I often cried bitterly in my room all alone as my roommate went for movies or to parties where I was never invited.
However, I managed to pass a whole year, but it took a toll on my health and of course my grades. I could be spotted blabbering to myself.
I had no one to talk to. No one ever bothered to speak a kind word with me. Even my professors made it a point to ignore me as I never managed to understand anything taught by them as all of their lectures were in English and I being a country boy found English alien.
Then one day a professor of mine, angered by my manner of answering him, remarked in front of the whole class, “You people get admission only God knows how. You are only good for ploughing your fields. Still there is time, go and plough.”
The whole class split into laughter leaving me alone to bear the humiliation. Then as that day came to an end I found myself unable to bear it anymore, the roars of laughter still reverberating in my mind.
In the middle of the night, all alone in my room, not worthy of any company, I…
I hanged myself from the fan, bringing an end to my days of misery, bringing an end to the dreams of my poor father, bringing an end to the smile of my mother, knowing in my heart that at least my parents will shed a tear while the whole college would take a sigh of relief on getting rid of me, me who was an outsider in their perfect world.
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