Of love, grief and work

They say work is the best remedy for grief. I used to wonder, how? They say, you can’t do well in studies when you’re in love. I used to wonder, why?

I’ve always been an average student, but nevertheless like a typical Desi set of parents, my parents expected me to be the best in class. And I have to take a tiny blame too: I scored first position in Grade 1. Yes, back in the days we’re marked with percentage and positions in class would be placed according to the descending order of percentage.Terrible system though: a nightmare for an average student, it recognised only a few handful of gems, undermining and stripping confidence off other students. For me, after Grade 1, I couldn’t catch up with the other competitors, so my marks wise, I was between the 4th and 7th position for the next decade of my school life.

Skipping the whys and hows I couldn’t hold on to my class position, I’d like to jump to the time I joined University. Unlike at school, at Uni I found myself less distracted from school politics and most importantly the abhorrent need to compete with students who obviously had a higher IQ level than me. At Uni, I was at peace – I was able to study when I want, sleep when I felt like, ignore people I didn’t like, join people I liked for hangouts – I was doing better than I ever had at school, but I wasn’t immersed in the World of education. The young early 20’s had its own distractions that stopped me from being passionate about my studies. I didn’t want to be the best; I simply wanted to be called a Graduate, but there was no passion behind it. And why would there be? Cupid worked I became passionate about something less fruitful. A temporary distraction that made me wear colorful glasses and see the world in pretty colors.

I can still recall the day I literally forced myself on a paragraph of extremely difficult jargon until I understood its meaning. I focused on nothing else but the paragraph in front of me. I aimed to obliviate the memories of mistakes and grief into that one little paragraph. And when I cracked the meaning, the feeling of “joy” overtook grief. I discovered the taste of “true concentration”. Call it Nirvana if you like! And I found passion in learning. A hunger “to be the best in myself”.

And I understood finally: work is the best remedy for grief; love in the wrong age is a silly distraction!

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