I still remember the summers of my childhood in Kolkata.
The power cuts were relentless. Not once in a while. Not an occasional inconvenience. They were a routine part of life.
On the most humid nights, I would lie on my bed soaked in sweat, unable to sleep, staring into the darkness and waiting for a faint gust of wind from the window tuo cool me down. Every few minutes, I would hope the electricity would return. Sometimes it didn't for hours.
What I remember most is my mother waking up in the middle of the night and sitting beside me with a hand fan, fanning me while I tried to sleep. Not because she wasn't tired. Not because she had nothing else to do. Simply because she couldn't bear to watch her child suffer through the heat.
We never had an air conditioner. We didn't even have a cooler. Back then, I didn't understand why.
As a child, you assume that if something is making life difficult, adults will eventually fix it.
As you grow older, you realize that sometimes they couldnn.
I thought those days would be temporary.
I thought if I studied hard enough, sacrificed enough, endured enough, life would eventually become easier.
So I studied.
I spent my teenage years grinding through school. While other people were discovering hobbies, relationships, and freedom, I was buried under textbooks, exams, expectations, and competition.
Then came 11th and 12th.
Then entrance examinations.
Then college.
Then more examinations.
Then internships.
Then responsibilities.
Then life.
My early twenties were not spent building wealth or enjoying youth. They were spent trying to survive my own mind. Passing professional exams, getting humiliated in vivas, spending hours in cramping stuffs i didn't like.
Popping up antidepressants in the early 20s of my life.
Therapy was expensive.
Antidepressants were expensive.
Appointments were expensive.
And yet those were costs that had to be paid because functioning itself had become difficult.
People often talk about the price of education.
Very few talk about the price of staying alive long enough to complete it.
For most of the last decade every year seemed to bring a new bill.
The strange part is that despite all these years of effort, I have barely earned anything.
For nearly ten years, I studied.
I worked.
I struggled.
I sacrificed.
But I did not earn.
The first meaningful money I ever made came during my internship. It wasn't much.
And yet even that money never truly felt like mine.
A large portion went back home because my father has always struggled to make ends meet for my family
How could I spend comfortably when I knew things were difficult there?
So I sent the money.
And today, after everything my internship, I am jobless waiting for entrance exams, I am still asking my parents for money.
That realization hurts more than I can describe.
Not because I feel entitled to luxury.
Not because I expect life to be easy.
But because I genuinely believed that after sacrificing so much, I would at least have basic financial freedom.
The freedom to buy relief from the heat.
The freedom to see a shirt I like and buy it without calculating consequences.
The freedom to discover a hobby and invest in it.
The freedom to find a new hobby online, find something interesting, and simply decide to try it.
The freedom to live without mentally auditing every purchase.
Today I am living in Delhi.
The summers are brutal.
The room is hot.
I still do not own an air conditioner.
I could probably buy a cooler, but every expense competes with something else. Gym supplements. Daily living costs. Savings. Family responsibilities.
And so, once again, I find myself negotiating with discomfort.
Sometimes I look back at that sweating child in Kolkata waiting for electricity to return and wonder what he imagined the future would look like.
He probably thought that after ten years of studying, things would be different.
That hard work would create distance from those struggles.
That sacrifice would eventually translate into comfort.
Insted, some days it feels as though I have spent a decade climbing a mountain only to discover another mountain waiting on the other side.
I regret studying. I regret getting into mbbs.
there are moments when I feel exhausted.
Exhausted by how expensive survival has been.
Exhausted by how many years disappeared into preparation for a life that still hasn't properly begun.
Exhausted by the feeling that I have spent most of my youth postponing comfort in the hope that one day it would arrive.
Maybe it still will.
And perhaps the hardest lesson from all of this is what medical education in India can do to someone from an ordinary family.
MBBS is often sold as a guaranteed path to stability and success. What many people dont realize is that it can also be a decadlong financial sacrifice.
Your late teens disappear into entrance preparation.
Your early twenties disappear into medical collegeexams, postings, internships, and often postgraduate preparation.
While many of your peers in other fields begin earning, investing, supporting their families, travelling, and building financial independence, you remain a student for years.
For those from wealthy families, this delay may be manageable.
For those from middleclass or lowermiddle class families every additional year of training comes with a cost.
Sometimes I look back and wonder whether the same discipline, the same number of hours, the same sacrifices, and the same relentless grind, if invested into JEE or btech, would have produced a far better financial outcome.
Medicine is noble profession but like they say,
But nobility does not pay bills.
Passion does not reduce electricity costs.Prestige does not buy comfort.And there are days when I genuinely feel that young students from ordinary families deserve to hear the full truth before choosing this path: medicine in India is not merely an academic commitment. It is a commitment to sacrificing a significant part of your youth, your earning years, and often your financial freedom.
I only wish someone had explained the tradeoffs this honestly when I was younger. The sunk cost fallacy is huge, the pathway to change is terrifying.
Sorry for the long rant.
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The same thing happened to me .. I'm also a creator on YT & INSTA .. I reviewed one movie last year as a vlog and there was so much hate in the comments .. I didn't care about negativity I was fine as the fans are showing absolute hate inturn it's given me great reach.. and the most dreaded thing is ..people who are fans of that particular star came to my SHOP in hometown and basically asked my father to DELETE that video of mine... my father afraid called me and asked me to delete the video and I did as it started to affect my family .. since then I stopped making videos on movies as it's too toxic .. I don't know making people shut their mouths either from side of FANS or MOVIE TEAM is just feudal .. it's absolutely wrong!
@doctorleels@VivekBabuP@Teluguraaya You said it was “dead” before the IT boom, but the demand existed from 1969 itself. Most ordinary people on both sides never hated each other,though some people did spread hatred and mock each other’s language and culture.
@doctorleels@VivekBabuP@Teluguraaya Having Hyderabad’s revenue and better averages on paper doesn’t mean every region felt equally developed. The Telangana movement grew because many people believed safeguards on jobs, irrigation, and resource allocation were not fairly implemented for decades
@doctorleels@VivekBabuP@Teluguraaya Absolutely not. Telangana wasn’t built on hatred toward Andhra people. It was a movement against political exploitation, unequal resource allocation, and decades of neglect that left many regions struggling with water shortages and lack of development
@doctorleels@SeemantiniBose Affordable food is important, but hygiene can’t be ignored Idk about Ap,but I’ve seen many places in Hyderabad become breeding grounds for Staphylococcus and other food-borne infections
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