By Romesa Qaiser Khan, 1st year.
Many believe medical students lack sentimentality, but based on the number of “who will be your valentine?” posts on social networks, I beg to differ. Some of us are indeed so inclined and all of us are in for a whole lot of disappointment.
- · The day begins- you imagined yourself waking up with a smile, the wind blowing your room’s curtains and the doves cooing on your windowsill. You’d probably have a hot cup of coffee while staring at the rainy weather outside and then proceed to carefully dress-to-impress while taking your time. You’d enter the university smiling and loiter to your first class and see the object of your interest.
|how your actual morning begins|
Actually, you’ll be up before your neighborhood rooster (if you went to sleep at all), trying to cram in some last minute knowledge (which will make all the difference in your paper really). You wont even wash your face, let alone brush your hair. And who on earth has time for breakfast? The only romantic greeting you’ll get is from the pooping pigeons of biochem department (hey, at least SOMEONE’S happy to see you.) Rushing up the stairs, you’ll get a mini heart attack and on entering the class you’ll realize all of you have the same valentine, Mushtaq. (such unity, much love.)
|biochem is such a killjoy.|
|talk about smooth entries into the hall.|
· Then it gets worse- You imagined hanging out with your group of friends, strutting around, making fun of couples (this we can all relate to doing). Perhaps someone will approach you and confess their undying love. You’d pretend to shrug it off, but secretly, they totally made your day. You’d gossip and laugh and sunbathe at zero point, exchanging smiles with cute passersby.
Again, you and your friends get shipped off to separate continents. You’re made to sit in ignorant isolation. You’re desperately searching, not for love, but for a theeta, any theeta who can guide you through the murky waters that are biochem tests. The only smiles you get are evil ones from the professors when they catch you sneaking looks at your neighbour’s paper. The hot topic of the day will be “yaar iska answer kya tha, mainay to yeh likha, shit, yeh bhool gaya, woh ghalat hogaya, gaye ab to D:”
|everytime a professor catches your eye.|
|when you get seated in the middle of nowhere.|
- · It finally ends (or does it?)- You walk out the gates, with your overall billowing like superman’s cape, trailing broken hearts behind you, with your head tall and shoulders staright and your hair waving in the wind, promises, secrets and confessions perfuming the very air around you.
As if. You’re hungry, sleepy, depressed. You know that despite your cramming, you’ve probably, most likely, certainly, flunked. All you want is a blanket to take to the corner and cry in. You (figuratively) crawl out the gates. (Or worse have to take Ashiq uncle’s “dulhan” wali bus on a journey of death, turmoil and head injury like me). At last you head home. Being forever alone seems a mild infliction compared to the valentine’s you’ve had. The only silver lining in all this is at least the ordeal is over….That is ofcourse, until biochemistry strikes again.