Jitters
Seema put the phone down, her breath a nervous hitch. The words of her friend echoed in her head. Her hands clasped together, her pulse hammering away at the fluttering beat of her heart. A lead weight settled in the pit of her stomach. Results were going to be declared, TODAY. A sheen of anticipatory sweat gathered on her forehead, her left eye twitching in panic.
'I'm having an anxiety attack!'
She rushed to the refrigerator. Pulling out a frozen pack of peas, she placed it gingerly on her head, her eyes scanning the kitchen interior for a bag to breath in and out of. "Calm down," she muttered to herself. "Its only the exam results. Not the end of the world. We have to wait till 2012 for that one."
Ten minutes of more positive reinforcement later, Seema was feeling decidedly calmer, albeit still nervous about results.Why was it, she wondered, that the thought of failing incited such negative feeling in her heart? Its not like she had ever failed at an academic exam in her life. But as they say, with exams-you never say never.
As she paced the length of her room, waiting for the university website to upload the results, she continued to reassure herself.
"You've written your papers well, especially that last one. Plus, this is an even semester, isn't it? That means good results, better makrs, good average. Ain't noting to worry about. You're a champ."
But as the clock ticked by, the thoughts became darker, the chanting negative.
"There's no way they will fail you. Even if they do, you have a KT attempt. That will be just the right incentive to study harder this time. Every year you resolve to study regularly, but you never do."
And on it went.
Until she felt another attack coming on.
"I have to distract myself," she muttered, stomping around, her parents none the wiser of the huge drama happening in the confines of their daughter's room.
Seema walked to her wardrobe, pulling out her comfort blankie. She plugged her headphones into her ears, and curled up on her favorite armchair, her blankie protecting her from the 'results' monster.
Half an hour of loud music later, she was feeling calmer when her cellphone buzzed again.
"Results are out. Tell me your seat number," her friend Jagruti said, a excited chatter audable behind her.
"Did you pass?" asked Seema.
"Yes," she replied, calm in the face of abundant cheering her family was doing in the background. "Give me your seat number so that I can check yours."
Seems felt her stomach flip over. "No thats okay. I want to check it myself. Let me check and I'll call you back."
Her laptop as usual took an eternity to boot up, forcing her to run a hole in the carpet again with her pacing.
"Hello?" she answered the phone again. "Jagruti my laptop is loading."
"How much time does that thing take?" Jagruti sounded impatient.
"Forever," muttered Seema, glad to finally see the windows logo go away to be replaced by her wallpaper of kittens. "Its up. I'll call you back." She clicked the end call button, without waiting for an answer. "Stupid computer."
The wifi logged on instantly, her browser already set to the university website homepage. She said her prayers, refreshed the page and clicked on her semester number.
'Please enter your seat number'.
Seema clutched her hall ticket, peering at it closely, making sure she had the number right. She typed it in once, deleted and retyped.
Crossing all the fingers on her hands, she hit the enter key.
"Number has passed."
Hallelujah!
'I'm having an anxiety attack!'
She rushed to the refrigerator. Pulling out a frozen pack of peas, she placed it gingerly on her head, her eyes scanning the kitchen interior for a bag to breath in and out of. "Calm down," she muttered to herself. "Its only the exam results. Not the end of the world. We have to wait till 2012 for that one."
Ten minutes of more positive reinforcement later, Seema was feeling decidedly calmer, albeit still nervous about results.Why was it, she wondered, that the thought of failing incited such negative feeling in her heart? Its not like she had ever failed at an academic exam in her life. But as they say, with exams-you never say never.
As she paced the length of her room, waiting for the university website to upload the results, she continued to reassure herself.
"You've written your papers well, especially that last one. Plus, this is an even semester, isn't it? That means good results, better makrs, good average. Ain't noting to worry about. You're a champ."
But as the clock ticked by, the thoughts became darker, the chanting negative.
"There's no way they will fail you. Even if they do, you have a KT attempt. That will be just the right incentive to study harder this time. Every year you resolve to study regularly, but you never do."
And on it went.
Until she felt another attack coming on.
"I have to distract myself," she muttered, stomping around, her parents none the wiser of the huge drama happening in the confines of their daughter's room.
Seema walked to her wardrobe, pulling out her comfort blankie. She plugged her headphones into her ears, and curled up on her favorite armchair, her blankie protecting her from the 'results' monster.
Half an hour of loud music later, she was feeling calmer when her cellphone buzzed again.
"Results are out. Tell me your seat number," her friend Jagruti said, a excited chatter audable behind her.
"Did you pass?" asked Seema.
"Yes," she replied, calm in the face of abundant cheering her family was doing in the background. "Give me your seat number so that I can check yours."
Seems felt her stomach flip over. "No thats okay. I want to check it myself. Let me check and I'll call you back."
Her laptop as usual took an eternity to boot up, forcing her to run a hole in the carpet again with her pacing.
"Hello?" she answered the phone again. "Jagruti my laptop is loading."
"How much time does that thing take?" Jagruti sounded impatient.
"Forever," muttered Seema, glad to finally see the windows logo go away to be replaced by her wallpaper of kittens. "Its up. I'll call you back." She clicked the end call button, without waiting for an answer. "Stupid computer."
The wifi logged on instantly, her browser already set to the university website homepage. She said her prayers, refreshed the page and clicked on her semester number.
'Please enter your seat number'.
Seema clutched her hall ticket, peering at it closely, making sure she had the number right. She typed it in once, deleted and retyped.
Crossing all the fingers on her hands, she hit the enter key.
"Number has passed."
Hallelujah!
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