First Major Heartbreak

February this year, I fell in love. I could not help it. I fell in love with this university and applied to it for a master’s program. Through the entire correspondence with them, I strongly felt I would get into this university. I thought I had good chances of getting a call since my entrance test scores were much higher than what they required.


Unfortunately, it was destined to be a short affair. My application was rejected. It came as a shocker to me. The ground beneath caved in. God, rejection hurts. Hurts real bad. Hurts even more when I’m already wedged in the wrong job and am away from home. I felt as if I had lost the battle of life. An all night’s snivel followed.


The next day (it was Sunday) I woke up late and got ready just in time for lunch. Our campus food courts strictly follow timelines. You don’t get lunch after 2 pm. I had less than fifteen minutes to get myself a decent meal. But, bad luck comes in truckload. Otherwise, how do you explain choosing the wrong one in a huge campus with six food courts? And choosing the wrong vendor there? Usually the food is just fine to blunt my hunger. This day, it was terrible; not a morsel went down my throat. I bitterly cried within myself.


My friend says “If you love somebody (I say ‘something’) set them free. If they return, they were always yours. If they don’t, spank yourself and move on”. I was trying to do that. There was nothing I could have done about the application. I had to face the truth and take it. Over time, I was getting back to normal life.


Two weeks later my brother called to say that the university sent home a mail. I already knew what was written in it. But I have this habit of keeping a frail hope alive in adverse situations even when I know that it is not pragmatic to think that something that’s already gone wrong and beyond my control, can be fixed. Some corner of my heart felt that may be they reconsidered my application. Bro read out the letter for me. The fact remained unchanged. They didn’t really have to send me a mail… It only reminded me of the denial. Another day of ‘rona-dhona’ ... Then, I had to move on.