To That One Student Who Studies 1 Day Before The Exam & Still Scores Well, Tu Kya Khata Hai?

Do you know what real pain is as a student?

Some might say it’s when you slog your ass off all year-long only to score average marks in the exams. But what I’m talking about is a pain that a student feels on another level altogether.

The kind of pain that fills you up with jealousy and confusion.

It’s when that one student in your class chills out for the whole year and studies at the last moment right before and manages to score exceptionally well.

My question to you if you are or were such a student,

“Kya khaa rahe the, bhai?”

Jab main parents ki daant ke baad ghis-ghis ke padh rahi thi, tu bahar cricket khel raha tha. Aur mere number 60, tere 90? Aise kaise?

Was there a secret to studying that I was missing out on or were you just special?

But I never really grasped the idea that how the fuck was your percentage way more than mine? I put in more hours, late nights and went to tuitions for every damn subject. All you did was come home from school and watch TV till it was time to go out and play.

And even after all my dedicated efforts towards scoring good marks, my parents always ended up comparing my report to yours. My constant whining about you never really studying had no impact on them. All they ever said was that why I can’t be as good as you. You were the bane of my existence.

With every year, I despised you a little more. Especially, at the time when we had this extremely difficult chapter in physics in 9th standard and the teacher specifically told us that if we don’t study on a regular basis, we won’t be able to cope up with it.

But like the superstar you were, you somehow managed it. You conveniently procrastinated and put it off till the last minute before the exam was scheduled. While I mugged up the whole chapter every day to perfection, you skimmed through it two days before the exam.

While I barely managed to pass, you came out with flying colours.

My jealousy knew no bar then. I knew I had to figure out your secret. And that’s how my obsession with you began. My crazy theories about how you manage to be so good at academics without even trying were taking over my life.

Were you an exceptional genius? I had my doubts about that one.

Did the fact that you were on really good terms with teachers somehow help you during exams? Maybe.

Were you studying in secret? Most definitely!

I was so sure that this uber-cool attitude you have towards regularly studying was just a mask you wore to maintain your badass reputation. But in reality, you were just like the rest of us.

Of course, I had no proof.

So, while the years went by and you continued being great at what you do, I struggled every day to even ace unit tests.

My jealousy grew and grew and there was nothing that helped my sanity. Jealousy isn’t a good emotion for an adolescent child. You aren’t mature enough to handle such a complex emotion and it gradually developed into hatred over the years.

And when you topped the history exam with no one even being close to your percentage, I was furious.

I was furious because I worked my ass off for that exam. And all you did was play video games. I called you to ask how much you’ve studied and I could hear Super Mario’s music playing in the background.

How can anyone ace a history exam by remembering tens of thousands of dates in ONE day? Maybe you were just too good a rattu-tota. But I know that if there was something I was the best at, it was mugging up.

That’s when my tuition teacher who knew how troubled I was with your existence explained a simple concept to me.

Maybe you were just smarter than I was.

Maybe you had a better understanding of concepts as compared to me.

In my rush to defeat you, I never realised that I was just mugging up every bit of information and never actually tried to understand the basics.

But did that help my beef with you? NOT AT ALL!

If anything, my jealousy escalated through the roof and let’s just say, if there ever was a pen missing from your bag during exams, I’m the guilty one.