I sit here on the eve of yet another exam , drawing inference to the term twisted fate. Exams are just like a zit , that appears on an otherwise clean
face , bringing with it the threat of many more to come. The fears of having it burst right open , and having its infection spread , throws one into a
frenzy fit. When you are young it really doesnt matter much . It only when you hit puberty , that zits start appearing. And surprisingly , it finds an
odd co relation with the occurence of some significant even in your life. For those who stayed in Dubai , exams meant taking the fun away from the Dubai
Shopping Festival. The were model exams to prepare for the board exams , and a failure in those, meant a second model exam. If I were a cold cut foot long
on a sub way menu , those exam grilled me to the perfect Hors d’œuvre. And that was just what it remained. The crunch and aroma of it remained for only a
few days , and then it was back to Cold Cuts.
My journey with exams has been like the climate in Canada. Either its cold , or its warm. Whilst my high school experience proclaimed , the flavour of a
rich chocolate eclair , my college experience , carried the stench fo fermented yogurt. Gone were the glory days , when everyone looked at you as a
genius. On the contrary ,the gutters seemed to be a place where no one bothered to give you another look. Bidding goodbye to all those years of education
, carrying nothing but a dented confidence , I foudn myself in search of a job . Exam once again , just words vomited on a piece of paper. There was no
human interaction ,except for the Bold rink of the Rejected sign , which vociferated the shame of a fallen knight. Who cared about the 90% i carried for
17 years of my life. 1 year of my college had taken that away. Rejection after rejection , followed , but then one day perhaps a result of someone
misfortune, I stumbled upon an Approved sign. With nothing to lose , I held close the reigns of my battered house. We rode , like a black horse amongst
the fine white sands, scared to stop , lest we walk no more. in the wind , our shackles borke , the dirt upon our body , vaporized with not much of a
thought. And when i stopped , I was silver among the fine white sands.
I passed on my resumes to those that came. All i saw now , was Approved signs. The marks were same , but the red ink was old. People forgot , but I did
not. Today I sit on the eve of an exam , wondering , what difference does it make . My marks will just be but ink on a paper, justified by the holder of
the pen. Is it who I am ? Is it who I will be? If the zit has to break , it will . If many more come , they will . But will that change who I am ? Is that the definition of beauty and life ?
