Sometimes I Think To Write LOL At The End Of Every Entrance Exam - ED | The Youth Blog | ED | The Youth Blog Sometimes I Think To Write LOL At The End Of Every Entrance Exam - ED | The Youth Blog
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    Sometimes I Think To Write LOL At The End Of Every Entrance Exam


    One course. Three examinations. Hidden talents. Years of experience. And appreciation? None.

    This is not my sob story.

    This is a call out to all those Twenty-year olds who have or will get rejected at some stage of their Entrance exams, will be made to feel like losers, unless they’ve got Swiss accounts or a ‘Gora’ NRI backing from Canneda. 

    I sincerely welcome you to India; a land of mystics, magic and adept inequality. A country where the passionate are laughed at and the uneducated garnished with gold dressings. This is an experience about a dejected young woman who besides having all the big-materials in life had an unadulterated passion for writing and wanted to get into a good Government run institute. And mind you, was quite the language weaver. However, one mistake that she made (out of her control, completely) was of being born in a country, who’s government run education system is quite allergic to talent.


    Okay, now that I’ve stated the above, let me walk you through ‘The Curious Case When My Passion Did a Pole Dance for Institutes but Got Harpooned’; ah well, the story is quite like that.  So basically this year during my final semester in college I had a long, LONG list of entrance exams (ending at the count of three) that took up half my wits and all my sleep (Insomnia for Dummies).

    Post three tedious, life sucking entrances, of which two were for govt. institutions, namely Jamia Milia Islamia and IIMC, JNU only one wanted me for what I truly loved – Writing.

    Symbiosis Institute of Mass Communication, Pune, opened up what seemed to be endless possibilities, but then again, catering to my endless stupidity I rejected them solely on the fact that me being a Delhite, wanted my Mommy’s little finger to rock me to bed (at least I don’t suck my toe nail). Well, that was one window I sealed. Shut. With super glue. (P.S: The gif shows what I looked like while rejecting them)



    Next came Jamia, the most feared of them all. Like it was the White walker and I was stabby little Jon Snow, it was Sauron and I was Fell beast chowder….*deep breaths*. A five hour  entrance examination, that tested our creativity, general knowledge and How-Long-We-Take-To-Melt factor (The sun was invigilating the room) and at the end of it, with a sore butt I walked out feeling better than ever as for once I believed that what I wrote were the best words I’d penned.

    Moving on, the list came out and to my utter shock, I wasn’t shortlisted, I felt bad that at least an interview call would have sufficed even if later I was rejected admission. But I wasn’t dejected and all I would love to say to Jamia is that – Thank You for not understanding my quirky dry humor and Sorry I didn’t make love to my textbook before appearing.

    giphy (1)


    My final term was with IIMC, JNU, the entrance exam of which was centered on our opinion of the daily news, basically the thoughts of a budding journalist.  For this too, I didn’t change my style of writing and neither did I tone down my spunk. Low and behold I was shortlisted for the next round of interviews. Nerves in a bunch, I dragged them across the floor to sit with my fellow competitors on campus.

    My interaction with a few went fairly well but this was the best part, I had one of the strongest portfolios and the relevant work experience while they were all my age, freshly passed out from Spanish Honors and English or a dude with oily long hair who couldn’t even converse in English, respectively, not knowing even the J of Journalism. Most felt insecure of my writings and knowledge of that field as I had been very deeply associated with an Online Youth Media while conquering the quest of college grades.


    With my interview lasting ten minutes, during which both parties laughed, were impressed, complimented my efforts and Sauvé, I thought I was selected, no questions asked and came out with all teeth beaming. Then it was doomsday.

    The first list. My name – nowhere, not in Delhi nor in the five regional centers. Funny how you think your passion stole the limelight but you got knocked over by a Spanish major (Me No Gusta) *blank face*. Yes, that’s right; the two with the look of ‘ooh-butterfly’ on their faces were bang in the middle of the Delhi list while I was sobbed away toilet paper (damn tissue extinction).


    So coming to think of it, I’m sure many of you relate at some level to what I’ve been through – rejection after brilliant interviews, no-call backs, quotas stealing the show…I know it pains, stings rather and the worst part? Self-doubt, we start doubting our capability and tag ourselves as ‘too-daft’ or create a mind-set where ‘we weren’t good enough and never will be’. But that’s absolutely not the case, believe you me, you or I, never got through because we’re made for something bigger than what the Institute could possibly offer. So don’t get bogged down and groove it like Meghan Trainor because we’re all about that bass!


    P.S.: All my headers were crazy song titles that best describe what goes on in my head *wink*

    Share your entrance exam stories with us. We’d love to hear them too. 

    Views presented in the article are those of the author and not of ED.

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    • Manaved Nambiar

      Couldn’t agree more. I don’t put much stock by these entrances though. I’ve seen people who write like Wodehouse get rejected, most probably because the semi literate examiner didn’t understand the complexity of the language used. On the other hand, pathetic students who mug up the meaning of English words and do those 1 month crash courses are gladly accepted in. The same people who have never read a good book in their life, are the ones who get in, usually.
      However, that doesn’t matter, a true writer like you, or anyone else, will always shine through, and give the readers a taste of their magic.