Clueless in college

Clueless in collage 

My college years were a washout. I wondered around in a haze of an uncertain future. There was a sense of purpose briefly when I attempted to get into medical science. I missed admission and felt more miserable because two close friends got through, separating our paths. 

 I was glad I did not get through. Studying to be a doctor was too much hard work, precision, and patience. I lacked the talent for all of it. Besides, I would have been bored to death doing what doctors do. 

When I said farewell to my school, there was a choice of two collages, science and arts in one collage and the commerce stream in another. I wrongly opted for science. I did not realize then that I had in me a sleeping writer and slumbering economist. I missed my calling by a wide margin. 

The college was about 4 kilometers from our home. I walked or cycled with a friend. Often I took a bus if it was crowded so as not to have to buy a ticket. 

Our college was no Cambridge or Oxford. But it was an elegant two-storied stucco building with wide corridors and large classrooms. To my delight, it had a huge playground. Though I played no sport, open grounds make me happy to date. 

I do not recall college having a canteen. But there was a Kachori seller called Ladhu bhai. He had a tin box on his cycle carrier from which he sold delectable Kachoris for 10 paise a piece. 

Our professors left little impact on us in our studies. Perhaps they felt the same way about us. We were an ordinary entity in an ordinary town with not much ambition going around. 

College gave a good deal of encouragement to performing arts and sports. My elder brother, two years senior to me, came to college only for music. I am not sure he even got a degree. 

I studied chemistry after I lost my medical admission. But my heart was not in it. I wanted to do a job and earn money. A kindly bank manager gave me a part-time job to write a backlog of passbooks for current account holders. I worked evening 5 pm to 7 pm on a pay of Rs. 150 per month. This was the most useful thing I did in my college years. 

In one of the happy and fortuitous moments, I met up with two students in an empty classroom. We forged a bond of friendship that has remained robust after 50 years. 

I passed out of college with a B.Sc. degree in chemistry, which was not worth the paper it was written. College did not teach us how to become employable, leave aside how to speak good English. There was a complete lack of inspiration. 

 In April 1972, I stepped out into the real world and felt like entering into a dark tunnel. I never went back to the college that gave me no clue to survive in the real world. 

 I recognized I was on my own and moved on.