New-age Writer P T Shravani: An Overburdened Indian Kid Part-1

Once Nelson Mandela said, ‘Education is the most powerful weapon you can use to change the world.’ True, that all of us would agree with. Won’t we? But in India, everything works oppositely. In our country, parents and families, or more specifically, the entire society, uses it as a weapon to kill their children from inside. They wish to do nothing with the ‘let’s change the world’ bit. 

Amidst all this hype, expectations, and chaos, have you ever thought about what happens to all such kids who carry these expectations on their shoulders? For them, it’s a highly frustrating and burdensome thing to be put where they don’t belong. On average, more than half of most Indian kids go through this broken system, ending up lost and practically nowhere. They lose their passion, dreams, goals, and sometimes hopes too. 

Coming out of this circus is way more complicated than getting into it. Today’s entry dared to overcome these obstacles and claim what she’d always wanted for her life, out from the clutches of stereotypes rooted in every day, the mundane, the safe, the tried and tested.

P.T. Shravani – The Overburdened Indian Kid

Today, Hatke Story is proud to welcome new-age writer P.T. Shravani. Her story, ‘An Overburdened Indian Kid,’ will take you back to your school and college days. You might find yourself in her. In India, it’s like ‘Ghar Ghar Ki Kahani’. So, let’s hear it from her. 

My name is P.T. Shravani, and I hail from Odisha – yes, the land of Lord Jagannath. My dad is a retired OAS (Odisha Administrative Service) officer, whereas my mom works as a Statistical Officer in the Labor Commissioner Dept. in Bhubaneswar. My entire family (both on the maternal and paternal sides) works for the State government in one capacity or the other. Almost everybody in my family works for the government. 

So, my parents did not shy away from investing heavily in our education. They have sent my sister and me to the best of schools and colleges over the years. The pesky relatives and other people kept advising them against it because, after all, we were daughters. We were on our way to becoming paraya dhan – one fine day. But I didn’t know at the time what my future held for me. I turned out completely different from what they had expected.

I was a good student, and I used to top the class. Along with it, I was great at extracurricular activities too. Early on, they had recognized my potential; that is precisely where they started building their hopes around me and the laurels I could bring home.

So much so that word spread around my extended family, with people musing, I would someday become an IAS officer and be the torch-bearer for the younger kids in the family. While I did enjoy the attention that came along with my achievements (through my time in school), I didn’t know my capabilities would go against me at some point in time. 

Things took a turn when people around me started labeling me as a chronic achiever, the downside being, they now saw me as someone who could never fail. This extreme focus on my academics kind of gagged me, resulting in me cowering under pressure.

Not scoring well enough in exams (by my guardian’s and teachers’ standards, that is) would be terrifying for me. At that time, my mother used to take care of our education, or you could say our entire upbringing, because my father would mainly be involved in his job, posted outside our hometown, through most of our growing up years. 

While I consider myself fortunate to have studied in some of the best schools in the State, I have to say – most of my tutors (at home) and a few at school were dictatorial. There’d be an extreme emphasis on scoring marks, making half-yearly and final exams the bedrock of my life. I was gravely dissatisfied with the way I was being taught, especially by my tutors at home. An incident comes to mind: I was in the 4th grade, and I attempted a class test of 15 marks.

The teacher told us to write the questions and leave the space for the answers. I scribbled down nine questions on one side of the page and six on the other side. I happily wrote down all the answers, happy to be the first one to turn my copy in for checking. There was a slight problem, though – in the excitement of being the first to submit the test, I’d forgotten to turn the page and ended up attempting nine questions only. When I submitted the notebook, my teacher was happy. I got full marks for all the nine questions attempted, but when she turned the page, she found no answers there. 

She understood the matter but couldn’t give me the answer sheet back. Much to my embarrassment, she announced in front of the entire class, “Shravani, if you had attempted everything, then you would have gotten full marks. Now you get nine only, be careful from next time.” She looked disappointed while I shook with fear and anxiety. I had let her down, but what was worrying me more was my mother’s reaction to this incident.

The whole time on the bus ride back home, I was only thinking about the upcoming drama awaiting me once my mother got back from the office. Isn’t it funny? At the age of 9, I was a young kid worrying about a class test that has no bearing on my life right now. But the aftermath of my very natural childish carelessness still haunts me on certain days when I question my worth and if it’s tied solely to my achievements. 

At 5:30, when my mother arrived, she asked me about my class test, and trembling with fear, I revealed the truth in a cracked voice. The fury I was then exposed to numbs me to this day when I think of it. She started hitting me very severely. It was a mad parade where I was beaten black and blue for a petty class test. I do not think I can ever forget that day. 

My teachers, too, were like my mother, very strict, and wouldn’t tolerate mistakes. Despite being heavily inclined towards studies, they punished me multiple times for being naughty and curious. I wouldn’t learn how they would teach, which I guess was a blow to their ego. 

But each class test, surprise test, and other exam mattered to me a lot as my life depended on them. My mother is a good person but quite authoritative when it comes to my education. She would not pressure my sister to perform as well; perhaps, because my parents (and my entire clan) had already identified the potential ‘star kid’ in the family. 

Life moved on, and I entered the 11th grade. In a bid to please my father, I ended up taking science. I’d been taken from a dominant ICSE background and thrust into a CBSE setup. I was not too fond of both Math and Physics. Computer science bored me to death, but I still tried my best to hold everything together.

However, my pretense of having it all together came tumbling down as my performance crashed and hit the ground. From an overachiever, I had suddenly slipped into being an average student. The second incident is related to my physics teacher, who scarred me for a long time.

As I’d told you before, I had become an average student; Physics was still a nightmare for me and my Physics teacher, a terror. I used to pass in that subject barely. While I was still struggling to cope with my academics in the 11th grade, a few students (based on a personal vendetta) snitched about me to the tutor, saying I had spoken ill about her. The reality was- nothing of that sort had ever taken place. I am not sure why she did not choose to confront me with the rumor; instead, she got after my life, avenging her supposed insult by criticizing my performance in her subject.

I had gotten 40 out of 100 in her subject, so she phoned my parents and said, ‘See, Madam, Shravani’s performance is not up to the mark. She needs extra classes, but before that, you must meet the principal tomorrow. We need to discuss the same.’ My mother was shocked and asked me why my teachers called her up and if I’d done something. I denied her queries. I did not know what was going on in my teacher’s head.

I knew I had scored low, but other girls in my group and a few others in the class had scored the same, but none of them had been singularly picked and called to meet the principal. 

The next day, my mother went to see the principal. I was there too. My Physics teacher declared (much to everyone’s shock), ‘Sir, Shravani’s performance is going down day by day. She barely passes in my subject. I think she is not prepared to tackle 12th boards. So, I suggest we hold her back from writing the Boards this year. She must repeat a year for improved performance.’ At that moment, the ground from under my feet fell. It was so traumatic to be in that situation. 

However, my principal came to my aid and said, ‘I cannot ask her to repeat a year only based on your subject. I need to speak to other teachers as well. Then we will decide what we must do.’ He decided to have a meeting with my other teachers the next day. We left school, but rather than going back home. I visited a temple in the city. My mother was so disappointed that she didn’t say anything to me and preferred to rush home.

It was one of the most devastating moments of my life. I cannot describe my emotions in mere words. Dejected and heartbroken (believing my career was over before it could even take off), I knelt on the ground and cried straight for five long hours, eventually collapsing to exhaustion. I woke up only when someone at the temple came to my rescue, giving me water to drink. 

Presently, I spent the night in anxiety, thinking about the possibilities that could take place the next day. On a fateful day, I found myself sitting in the principal’s chamber. I didn’t expect other teachers to support me, but they did and said I was doing fine in their subjects. 

After hearing their statements, the principal very kindly reconsidered my situation and suggested that I only sign up for extra classes in Physics. So, for the next two months, every single day, I’d turn up at the school, pleasing my tutor’s ego under the guise of attending extra classes. I was exhausted from the daily traveling, unable to truly focus on my studies as much as I’d have liked to.

There was also the constant fear of doing poorly in this subject. 12th ended, I secured 60%, but with a compartmental in Math. Very unexpected, I had passed in Physics but got stuck with Math. Reappearing for one subject, which I’d thought I’d done decently in, was yet another nightmare. Thankfully, I passed the second time around.

Then came my next mini battle around the time I had to choose an undergraduate program to get into. This time around, my mom wanted me to prepare for the IIT, and I put my foot down, stating I’d rather quit studying altogether at this point than commit career suicide by choosing a professional course I was terrified of. Deep down, I knew I wanted to study English Honors, but this is 2005 we’re talking about, fifteen years ago when nobody could’ve imagined writing as a credible source of income!

Giving in to my resolve, my mother brought a DU form; much to my dismay, till the time I cleared Math re-examination, all the seats were occupied. When my best friend (who was already studying in law school) suggested, I appear for the entrance exam held by the University.

I did not know about the law, but she reassured me, saying she’d suggest a few books to prepare for the exam. And that additionally, I only needed to read the daily newspaper. At this stage of my life, I had nothing to lose, and so I agreed. My mother and I had a showdown about my bizarre career choice (yet again), but I was a stubborn girl, so I stayed firm on my decision. 

Surprisingly (after the debacle in the boards), I cleared the exam, and my admission became a hot topic for everyone around me. My mother’s colleagues congratulated her, saying she was lucky her daughter was getting into a prestigious institute without spending a penny on coaching and the like. 

Suddenly, I was at the center of family discussions, all over again. The expectations were building up yet again. Then the following chapters of my life unfolded in NUJS, Kolkata, one of the most prestigious law institutes in the country, my alma mater, the place where I discovered a glimpse of who I truly wanted to be.

 Stay tuned with us, and do come back to read the conclusion in part-2 of P.T. Shravani. The Overburdened Indian Kid.

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