Between the White Coat and the White Kurta

Too soon for a midlife crisis, but definitely the presence of some variation of it. Starting senior college is vastly different from starting junior college. After 2 years of constantly solving MCQs and cramming for 12 hours in the last few months, wanting to become a doctor until a visit to the nearest government hospital, and then you find yourself rethinking your entire dream, starting to like a particular subject more, and eventually growing more and more fond of it, to reimagining your dream, it's not a simple journey, especially if you are merely a 16 or 17 year old.

Why did I want to be a doctor in the first place? Why do I not want to be one now? Why have I chosen this path, which somehow is not as popular and much more taken for granted than it should be. Is it merely because I thought organic chemistry is just not for me and NEET is something far beyond my reach? What would my decision be if I had scored 720/720 (in a parallel universe where fairies exist and I have my own personal massage chair which can finally fix my back problems, which considering my age, I shouldn’t even be having).The decision not to choose this field for the wrong reasons (such as not being able to clear an exam) scares me. It makes me question if the dream I had woven, of wanting to be a doctor, was for the right reasons.

So, we are back to the same question I have been spiraling to for the past few weeks. Maybe I am a bit late, but better late than never. Plus, I have revisited this question far too many times in the past few years to not do it again. I'm a pro at this now.

I remember after the end of 10th grade, when my parents were asking me what I wanted to choose. Initially, I was torn between humanities and science. But I had things to prove, and I had things to be, that diverged from the expansive and captivating world of humanities. Somehow, after a few days of thinking and some overthinking, I decided to take this entrance exam known as "NEET." And just because I love taking on too much on my plate, I decided to go with PCMB. I wanted to keep my options open, my possibilities endless—a wide open sky. And I couldn’t be more thankful for that decision.

My parents and I had taken a trip to Kashmir during the summer vacations before the start of 11th grade. I remember finding a new passion for life. Maybe it was the air, maybe it was the people or the beautiful mountains and the gorgeous trees. Whatever it was, it sparked this inner calling to want to help people. I always wanted to do that. Ever since I was a kid, I have been far too fond of wanting to help those around me. What better way to do that than to become a doctor? I recall dreaming about going to rural areas and healing people there, helping them find the right path, treating them, taking care of those who have never been cared for. I have always found it astonishing to know that there are many out there who have never even felt love. I hope to be the one to give them that. Even if it is for a minute, for a few hours, hopefully for at least a day, I hoped to make their life a little bit better. What changed then? This thought troubles me.

Let us fast forward a bit to a trip to one of the most prestigious government medical colleges in my city, which was organized by the institute I was in. The motive behind this trip was to help the students imagine their lives ahead. And I did exactly that.

It was a sunny day, not the bright birds chirping, sky is blue, life is great sunny; the I am sweating my eyes out sunny. I remember I was wearing a white kurta with a mesh-like texture and a white coat over it. Walking through those corridors made me realize I am not meant to be here. I am not meant to be in a hospital. It just felt wrong to me. I wish I could explain the gut-wrenching feeling I had while going home that day, taking the bus crowded with people, some weary from their day, and others who might have just lost their dreams... much like I had. I wish I could articulate what felt wrong.. I wish I could put into words how much I disliked the entire trip, but some things just don't feel right, like Joey and Rachel or Salman Khan and Aishwarya Rai in the movie Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam.

The next few weeks went into me thinking of different ways I could still keep the dream of becoming a doctor alive. Perhaps I could start my own clinic. As time went by, I realized that as much as I had romanticised learning and the journey of becoming a doctor, I didn’t have much that I fancied about the journey once I completed my degree. Being a doctor has two sides, just like almost everything does. One side contains respect, power, money, love, and most of all, helping people, actually doing God's work. The other side comes with disrespect, not so much money, not a lot of love, the long working hours, the responsibility of someone's life, and worst of all, death. Do doctors get the family life they deserve and wish for? Do doctors get holidays and vacations as much as a normal working human being does? Isn't being surrounded by constant sickness a lot of negativity? Could I handle that pessimism? Do I look forward to attending every single event my future daughter and son have, just like my parents always did? Could I always be present where I wanted to be? Is it selfish of me to think all of this?

There were numerous considerations involved in making this decision, and neither you nor I have the time to explore every question and decipher each answer. To conclude this rant, I came to the realization that I didn't truly want to become a doctor. I didn't aspire to have my own clinic or work in a hospital. However, I still wanted to be there for people, to give back what I had received. The journey to figure out how to let go of the dream, not the purpose, still continues.