Unworthy.

 

December 2023

A dark hour, late into the blind mystery of the night. It was torturously cold and almost frosty outside, the radiator in my room wasn't doing a good job either. Sinking into my oversized hoodie and blanketed by a cozy duvet, I tried to fall asleep. I was lost, a month and a half since I moved to UK, I was terribly lost. Although, I was living the dream life of many passionate engineers, both graduates and students, back home, I felt empty inside. This opportunity to study in a competitive, professional and premier university wasn't something that I felt I've earned. As for that fact, what have I actually earned in my life that I feel happy about?

"Anirudh does good poetry, and his short stories are heartwarming." My reader-friends would say.  

"You've authored a book? How do you write these?" my friends would comment, awestruck and genuine. 

"You're a gold medalist in engineering? Stop kidding." My acquaintances would say.                                

"Post-Grad in UK. You're living the high-life man." 

Things would go blind at this point, silence in pride, sadness in victory, unable to savor the moment others would have rejoiced whole-heartedly. Yes, I've always been lost, lost in a never ending cycle of thoughts. 

Sometimes, I feel happy, I feel like I've done the hardwork to feel a sense of pride, carry the badge of honor and flaunt it. But oftentimes, I feel like I never deserved it. I've just been lucky all along. 

I. The First Copy.

Chennai shone brightly after three frustrating days of rain earlier this January. I woke up late, my laptop still running from the night before, the google docs tab with my research paper sparkled brightly yet looked horrifying and the iconic 'warm fuzzy feeling' playlist on Spotify running on loop the whole night and pretty much the first half of the day. 

Parcel delivered at the Navalur Centre.  

I jumped around my room excited, I ran to the hall dancing and rejoicing the moment that I've been craving for. My friend walked out of his room and asked me, "What's wrong man?"

"Author Copies have come!" I exclaimed, I was excited. I spent two years writing and curating a set of ballads written by me, and its finally published and out for sale. He began celebrating the moment with me too. In an hour, the box was delivered. My friend signed the sheet and received the box, he bought it to my room smiling wholeheartedly. I was incredulously excited to open the box and touch the book I've authored for the first time.

I opened, touched and felt it, flipped the freshly printed pages of the book, had a glance of my poems printed neatly in the book, clicked a few photos and recorded a few videos. Done!

The excitement lasted for five whole minutes, following which I started having second thoughts- "Is this good enough? Am I worth all of these? Do I even write well?" 

II. The Million Lights & Applause. 

Adorned in a yellow graduation cape, amongst high achievers, professors and Ph.D. students, I sat in a designated chair that was labelled- 39090001 Anirudh R P , B.E Mechatronics (2019-2023).  It was the graduation ceremony specifically for Gold Medalists and Ph.D. scholars receiving their doctorates after toiling tirelessly for ages. After an hour of long speeches that were supposed to sound like symphonies,  or an endless ballad signifying the rise of a protagonist, we were made to stand in a queue to receive our degrees. A few cameras from various television channels aligned themselves perfectly in front of the stage, a few of them recording on their phones. The excitement rose, as I neared the stage. I couldn't think of anything else but the happy faces of my parents, the pride on their faces. My heart pumped faster with every second, and trust me, the clocked ticked absolutely slow for me. 

"Anirudh R P, B.E. Mechatronics." 

I heard the compere call out. I was engulfed in an inexplicable trance, deafened by a thunderous applause in the auditorium, blinded by the lights flashing from the many cameras in front of the stage, standing short-in-stature, tall-in-pride amongst the dignitaries that day, holding a huge memento with a red engraving that read- 'Gold Medalist'.            

"This is for you Amma & Acha." I thought to myself, I smiled wide, uncontrollably.

I walked onto the choir-stand like podium behind for the scheduled photoshoot when I returned to my senses. I looked at the crowd in front of me, the people receiving the awards, the cameras, the dignified personalities. I felt like a fraud, I felt like I've successfully driven the entire education system into deception and received an award for academic achievement. "I was not even a perfect engineer?" I kept telling myself. "My friends are better engineers than me, I don't deserve this award." I kept repeating, standing on the podium posing for a photo. The photo that would go on to be displayed in the official website of the university for months after that. I held tightly onto the heavy gold medal with a heavy heart. "Did I really deserve this?", I had already drowned in guilt by then.

A few miles away from London, in a comfortable room, in the middle of a historic city, I was awake guilt-ridden, lost and worried. Following the chain of thoughts that could potentially find ways to pull my confidence to a canyon humanity has never explored yet, I decided to holistically practice gratitude to make me feel better. 

'You were always lucky.' I heard a voice in my head say, repeatedly, enunciating it louder each time. 'You never had to work as hard as your peers.' I heard simultaneously.

I grabbed my journal that laid atop the night stand, and switched on the night lamp. I wrote down, trying to focus hard, in points. I thanked my parents, I thanked god, I thanked my friends, my family. At the end of the list, I wrote a small note for me, I thanked myself for having the confidence to publish a book, I thanked myself for coming up with a strategy to study efficiently despite being an average student. I thanked myself for being consistent, and serious about my work.

I felt immensely satisfied, the necessity to consider my little achievements, my own, took sometime but it was worth it. The journey was a valuable lesson in itself, I began to know myself even better. Furthermore, I was no longer against myself, nor was I supporting my actions. I viewed at me, the way I view at my creation from afar, happy and proud.

Gone was the pessimism, the ruthless criticism, the self-doubts aimed at myself.                              Gone was the raging anger that ruled over me, sans empathy, for years.                                              Gone was the shattering under-confidence that shunned my from enjoying my little feats.

At this point, I was here. Cheering myself to do better everyday, in a faraway place, beginning the arc of being the protagonist in my life.

You are the protagonist, the writer of your own story. So write a good story for yourself.