Turning Point

I always knew I was smart, not the kind who mugged up answers, but the kind who asked, “Why?”. I had an issue with our education system from the moment I could understand it. Every tuition teacher was a sparring partner. I asked things like, “Why can’t I write (a + b)² = a² + b² + 2ab instead of the ‘correct’ a² + 2ab + b²?” To my eyes, they looked the same and mathematically, they were. But the system didn’t care. If the order was wrong, so were you.

Naturally, my grades were average. My parents weren’t happy.

But I was never idle. If I wasn’t dancing, I was skating. If I wasn’t hosting assemblies in school, I was giving speeches in Spanish. That 2012 theatre festival in Delhi? One of the many things I threw myself into. I also represented my school at the World Scholar’s Cup and Model UN. But more on that later. My parents even told me to hang up one poster in bold: NO EXTRA CURRICULAR ACTIVITIES

Then came 10th grade.

The make-or-break year for every Indian student. The board exams. That one big judgment day that decided your college, your career, your life or so it was said.

With the acting dream already buried, I joined the crowd aiming for MBBS. I didn’t have a reason. My friends were doing it, so I said, “Why not?” Until my dad cut through the delusion with one sentence:

“Nobody will even hire you as a compounder in a hospital.”

I was shattered. But more than that, I was furious.

If I couldn’t be the compounder, I’d build the damn hospital myself. 

Soon after, I spoke to my maternal uncle about my next steps. I told him I wanted to get into SIES, one of Navi Mumbai’s best commerce colleges, listed among the top 21 B-schools in India by the Times of India.

But the results of my prelims (mock 10th exams) had just come in: 68.8%.

His response?

"Tumne Garad khandan ki naak kaat di.”
"Tujhe mummy papa, baher kay tond dakhavnar.”

“You’ve soiled the reputation of the Garad family. Your parents won’t be able to show their faces in public.”

Then came the real blow: “Forget SIES. Think about whether Ryan International will even let you stay for 11th and 12th.”

My mum was my rock. She made sure I had the best tutors, the best resources, the calmest environment. She even called my grandfather, my Aba, a brilliant man with two degrees, and a mind sharp as a sword. Between the two of them, they became my support system and my discipline enforcers.

But my body had other plans.

Just three months before the board exams, I had my appendix removed.

Recovery was brutal. I couldn’t walk properly. Every step felt like someone was carving into my side. I was in constant pain. And to make things worse, I had also been battling tuberculosis, a full-blown, months-long illness that left me physically weak, my immune system compromised.

For a 15-year-old, it was no joke.