Somehow, it suddenly strikes me. There's not much I've learnt in the 4 years of graduate school. Knowing myself, I happen to learn more when I am motivated to do so. Motivation works 2 ways. One, when someone motivates you to learn. Two, when you yourself want to learn. It hardly worked either way in the last 4 years or some years even before.
I am partly to blame. But I would also think of the inability of the ones, who 'taught' me, to motivate me to know. Wherever I look around here, it's the same scenario. Mindless numbed gulping down of heterogeneous information and puked up splash of ink on the answer scripts. The fault lies as much with the "taught" as the "teachers". Somewhere down the line, having been pushed around in the rugged terrain of rote learning, I fell, I cut myself, and in an effort to survive with an air of leisure, I chalked out a trail where there would be minimal rote & puke, and yet minimal effort to pursue the aura to learn. I succeeded, yet I failed. I failed in that inspite of knowing where the path leads, I didn't follow my heart. I failed in that I ended up being a glorious nobody than a knowing-something-in-its-true-fundamentals anybody. I failed in that being aware of my abilities and potential, I have almost thrown it all away.
It's an education, a lesson. Perhaps, the most important of them all I've learnt is knowing I have failed.
