I grew up listening to incredible stories of great people who read 12 hours a day or worked tirelessly all night. One of my fondest memories is of my grandma narrating, Beta, you know M. Ali Jinnah used to stay up late to study and whenever his mother showed concern, his reply would be the same: he had to work hard if he was to achieve something in life'. She would then advice me to do the same.
I grew up listening to incredible stories of great people who read 12 hours a day or worked tirelessly all night. One of my fondest memories is of my grandma narrating, 'Beta, you know M. Ali Jinnah used to stay up late to study and whenever his mother showed concern, his reply would be the same: he had to work hard if he was to achieve something in life'. She would then advice me to do the same.
Such anecdotes were inspiring enough, but, at the same time, they frightened me as I found it impossible to be as studious as Mr. Jinnah. I did try to do so at one point in my life and almost ended up hurting myself.
Flashback to my first day in college, where one is expected to produce outstanding results, where the belief of ‘better grades = brighter future’ is hammered into our heads. There were stacks of books to learn, lengthy notes to cram, extra-boring classes to attend; in between practical/viva to study for and back-to-back tests I was required to be prepared for, I was completely lost, unable to focus.
Daytime, for me, was not enough; tea, energy drinks and even power naps during the day were my futile attempts at trying to stay up during the night. The pressure started to build up as exams loomed ahead. Everybody seemed to be working harder and harder. To see my friends simultaneously study for university entry tests and their intermediate exam was frustrating me. I would sit with my pile of books, and I could hear my teacher's voice in my head clearly saying, ‘competition bohat tough hai’.
I couldn’t stand it. I succumbed to the pressure and, taking my friend’s advice, decided to use Ritalin, a pill that boosts alertness and improves concentration. According to him, it was the quickest - and also the deadliest - fix for my lost mind.
On my way back home that day, I stopped by a drug store and came out with Ritalin pills in my hand; no prescription required, literally.
I felt a world of difference with just a single tablet. I was more awake, alert and everything from studies to my social life looked manageable.
With every passing day, I thought I had found the momentum and I could also be a high-achiever like others. Staying awake all night to study impressed everyone at home; need I say they were oblivious to my drug abuse? What mattered was they were extremely proud of me.
Then a week before the first exam was due, with classes both at coaching centre and college having been wrapped up, I got no chance of going out to buy Ritalin. I wondered why I wanted to have those pills when I had prepared for the exam and just had to revise. Things began to spiral downhill. I would lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling fan, until my eyes would ache but no relief came. In the morning, dizziness would overtake; I even lost my appetite. Some would say it was the looming fear of exams; others who knew better would immediately recognise these as some of the withdrawal effects of the medicine.
The examination hall looked like a dungeon, where I found myself struggling with the answers and reflecting on how I had spent my year. Even though I was not aware of the exact nature of Ritalin, I knew it was responsible for my state.
The result was disappointing; nevertheless, I passed. Amidst all the suggestions to study again to improve grades, I decided not to experience that misery again and pursue a degree in social sciences. I was still using Ritalin occasionally until I learned about drug addiction in my Psychology class. After learning how these drugs can ruin your health in the long-term and how addicts can help themselves, I began to work on myself. I didn't let grades bother me; rather, I derived satisfaction from the efforts I was putting in my research, assignments and practical work. Theatre classes at the university and badminton matches in the evening left me no time to worry and l was tired enough to fall asleep as soon as I hit my bed.
I’m grateful my battle wasn’t as fierce, that I didn’t have to lose anything, and I hope my experience can be an eye-opener to other victims (read ‘students’) who have no idea how to fight it.
