Weekly Diary : Week 14
08 September 2025 (Monday) : A Bad Dream
I woke up late and missed all my online lectures. I should have logged in, but I didn’t. I slept through the afternoon and woke up in the evening with an empty, quiet regret — a small, cold surprise that I had wasted time. Then the memory of the dream hit like a slow weight.
In the dream it was a normal college day. I took the usual bus. The people were ordinary, the ride ordinary. The bus turned, we reached my stop, and I got off with the others. There was a crowd moving in the direction the bus had just come from. I saw my parents there. They were tense. They were walking toward the crowd and crying.
I called them. They did not notice. I stepped closer and called again. They did not see me at all, as if I were not there. Their faces were full of panic. Their crying was loud and raw. I followed the direction they were looking at and then I saw myself — or what looked like me — lying on the road. Blood. Injured bodies. The bus had crashed while taking the turn. People from my bus were shouting for help. People in the crowd were pointing at the bodies but not hearing the callers. My throat tightened. Tears filled my eyes inside the dream and I called to my parents once more, sobbing, one last hope that they would look up. They kept crying over my body and I stood outside of myself, separate and silent.
Then someone touched my shoulder. I woke up instantly.
When I woke up my cheeks were wet. Tears had already fallen. I hugged my pillow and let myself cry, the sound small and steady. I kept thinking: what kind of dream is this, where I become the thing my parents mourn and they do not see the living me? My sister came in and asked what happened. Images of my parents crying flashed in my head and I could only say broken lines: “SAPNA… BURA SAPNA… MUMMY AUR PAPA RO RAHE THE… AUR…” My voice stopped. When my sister asked if I wanted to call Papa I said no — I did not want to worry them. I wanted to fix the break inside me without pulling them into it.
I washed my face, drank a glass of water. Later I learned the house was quiet: Gaajar was at the office, Papa had not yet returned from work, and Mummy was at the market buying vegetables. After dinner I told Gaajar about the dream. He said something I could not follow; I answered that I had no control over my dreams.
Night came and I was afraid of sleeping. What if that dream returned? I thought about changing my habit of sleeping in the afternoon. Maybe I sleep too long and let the day slip into strange places.
Mai chahe kitne bhi khoon bhare, cheekhne chillane wale sapne dekh lu, mujhe aise khoon bhare sapne manjur hai. Lekin mujhe aise sapne nahi dekhne jisme meri family, mere parents, mere friends ko mai kho du… Mujhse sapno me bhi unse dur nahi jaana… Mujhe sapno me bhi unhe nahi khona… Rabba, mujhe sapno me bhi unse dur mat karna… Please…
The dream kept flashing in my mind until I fell asleep again without quite meaning to.
09 September 2025 (Tuesday) : From Question Papers to Cramps: A Day’s Journey
Have you ever had one of those days where the universe says, “Here, take this challenge… and oh wait, let me add a bonus round for you”?
Today was our written exam for Fermentation Technology. The paper was long, like it wanted to test not just my knowledge but also my patience. Still, I managed to attempt all the questions. Not bad, I thought. I even gave myself a tiny silent clap inside my head for surviving the war with words and diagrams.
But the afternoon had other plans. Out of nowhere, my periods decided to make a grand entry. And honestly, all I could think was: AHHHHH!!! Ab next few din jaise taise nikalne padenge!! Periods ki to aisi ki taisi!!! 😭😭
Quietly, I sat with the thought — exams are tough, but periods… They’re like surprise pop quizzes from life, without syllabus or warning. The only resolution here is patience, hot water bags, and maybe chocolate (lots of it).
10 September 2025 (Wednesday) : Exams Don’t Just Test Knowledge, They Test Handwriting Speed
Isn’t it strange how exams never test just what you studied, but also how fast your hand can run a marathon on paper?
Today was our written exam for IDC — the Family Business subject. I had revised in the morning, so I went in feeling prepared. The paper itself was easy, which gave me a small sense of calm. But calmness in exams is always temporary. As the clock ticked closer to the end, two five-mark questions still stared at me from the sheet, waiting to be answered.
I rushed. I fought with time. I managed to finish, but what I left on those pages could barely be called handwriting. Honestly, my handwriting is already the worst, but today it transformed into something else — wahiyat, ek dum gaya gujra handwriting. The kind of handwriting that looks like a fight between pen and paper where both lost. 😑😑
Somewhere between the panic and the scribbles, I learned a small lesson: time management is as important as knowledge in exams. What’s the point of knowing the answers if the clock refuses to cooperate?
Still, one thought stayed with me and made me smile quietly — if they’re taking written exams for business subjects, I should be thankful they didn’t decide to take a written exam for sports. Can you imagine explaining cricket shots or running techniques in three pages?
11 September 2025 (Thursday) : Deadlines, Xerox Shops, and 2 A.M. Victories
Why do the most urgent notices always arrive at the last moment?
Tomorrow was supposed to be an online lecture day. That’s what our faculty had said earlier. But by evening, a new notice appeared in our official TY Biotech group, changing the entire plan. Now it would be offline lectures, last chance for journal correction by GP sir, and journal certification by SR ma’am. No journals would be checked on Monday. And Saturday, of course, is a non-instructional day — meaning no teachers on campus.
The problem? My Medical Microbiology, Genetic Engineering & Genomics, and Fermentation Technology experiments were all checked. But my Bioinformatics experiments were still untouched. And who’s checking them? None other than GP sir — head of the placement cell, and the same person who handled our Bioinformatics practical. The due date for getting those checked was way back, on the day of our Internship PPT presentation and CA-2 viva. I hadn’t completed mine then, so after my presentation and viva, I came straight home. Meanwhile, Tissue and Mice stayed back, got their journals checked, and escaped the doom of a “LATE REMARK.”
Tissue later sent me a PDF of her checked Bioinformatics experiments. Honestly, I needed it — I had no idea what to write or where to stick the prints. My other reason for running home that day? I was starving. Uss din bahut bhuk lagi thi… Hunger won over responsibility. A decision that came back today to bite me.
By evening, I was staring at my incomplete journal. The thought of delaying again crossed my mind for a few seconds, but then the horror of “LATE REMARK” snapped me awake. That single phrase felt scarier than any viva. So, I rushed to the xerox shop, grabbed the prints, came home, ate dinner, and sat down to finish the work.
The clock kept moving. Finally, at around 2 a.m., I put down my pencil with the quiet relief of a survivor. My journal was complete.
12 September 2025 (Friday) : The Day I Finally Earned My Late Remark
Isn’t it funny how sometimes you fight so hard to avoid something, and in the end, you walk straight into it?
Today was supposed to be a regular practical instruction day, but the highlight (or lowlight) was this — I got a late remark from GP sir.
It happened like this: I was standing in line with the other students, waiting for my journal to get checked. As I looked around, I realized most of them were only there for the Result and Conclusion of experiment 7. Simple. Quick. Done. Their journals had already been checked last week during the presentation and viva. Meanwhile, I stood there with my whole Bioinformatics experiments untouched, clutching the journal like a criminal holding the evidence.
Inside, I was silently praying, Please sir, no late remark.
The atmosphere gave me some hope. Sir was in a good mood, laughing and chatting with students. I thought, maybe luck will be kind. Maybe my timing isn’t so bad after all.
Then came the moment. Only two students were left — me and Dragon. I handed my journal over. Sir opened it, saw the empty checkmarks, and exclaimed, “Are baba, pura experiments baaki hai! Itna late kyu? Baaki bachho ne to last week hi check karva liya tha. Tumhara itna late kyu?”
I stared at the journal, then at sir, then back at the journal, as if the pages would answer for me. When he asked again, “Batao, itna late kyu?” my brain froze. What could I say? If I admitted my journal wasn’t complete, he’d scold me. If I told the truth — that I was hungry and ran home early — he’d laugh at me. So I mumbled, “Huh… Sir vo… Last week…”
Sir didn’t wait for my excuse. He smiled and said, “Bachha, aapko late remark milega.”
I froze. For a second, I wondered if I had heard him right or wrong. A late remark? Really? Before I could process it, sir continued, “Agar late remark nahi dunga to baaki bachho ke saath unethical hoga. Unhone time pe complete kiya hai na. Isilye, bachha aapko late remark dunga.”
And that was it. I just nodded. Deep down, I knew he was right. It would be unfair to others if I escaped. The late remark was deserved.
So, after staying up till 2 a.m. the night before to finish everything, I still ended up with the very thing I feared—A late remark. Haaye Rabba… kya fayda tha raat bhar jagne ka? 😭 Aur vo bhi itne pyaar se smile karke Late Remark diya😑🙂.
13 September 2025 (Saturday) : Periods Over, Goodbye Cramps
Today there was no college — no offline lectures, no online lectures, no rushing with journals or sitting through practicals. Just a calm, empty day. And the highlight? It was the last day of my periods. Finally, I am done with this month. 🥳🥳
It may sound funny, but it really felt like crossing a finish line. Not a grand marathon with medals and cheering crowds, but a quiet personal race that no one else sees. The kind where you walk in slow motion, carrying hot water bags and mood swings, and then one day you realize — ah, the storm has passed.
14 September 2025 (Sunday) : A Quiet Checkmark on the Week
Today, I finished my weekly diary blog. A simple line to write, but it carried the weight of sitting down, remembering, shaping scattered thoughts into sentences, and giving them a place to rest. Once it was done, I didn’t rush to publish it. Instead, I decided to publish it tomorrow morning.
This week ended. It was a weird collection of things: a terrible dream, the Fermentation Technology written exam, periods, the IDC written exam, and the late remark in Bioinformatics. The week was also full of one small, loud feeling — guilt. I felt guilty about speaking rudely to that person. I kept thinking, maybe that was my mistake. I should not have been harsh.
I did nothing special all week. No to-do list. No Forest app to track my time. I let myself be free. I let my thoughts sit with me. For once I did not chase goals. I just watched my mind move around. And in that watching I noticed many things.
I am already blessed. I have food to eat, a roof over my head, clothes to wear, and water to drink. My parents fight a lot, but they never say bad things to us, to their children. My mother scolds me for not taking care of myself and asks, “Who will marry you?” Yet she pushes me to be independent. My father gets disappointed when my marks fall, but he never pressures me. He says, “Find the mistake, fix it, learn.” When I had a bad day, I would gossip with my mother and sleep in her lap while she patted my head. I remember the days when she braided my hair. I remember one time I said I wanted daal makhani and the next day my father cooked it for me himself.
I remember the day my Nani died. My mother cried because she had lost everything, she had grown up without a father’s love. That day my father stayed with her all day. He hugged her, wiped her tears, and made sure she ate. When my mother had to go to the village for weeks, my father called at breakfast and dinner just to ask if she had eaten. When he came home late, my mother would stay up. When he finally arrived, they had food together. Some days were good. Some days were bad. They were both right when they said life is not only good or bad — it is both.
After a week of watching, I made a decision. I told myself, “I QUIT.” Yep… “I quit. I got to know how my mind works and what my situation really is. I quit the dream of becoming an animator. I quit the life I thought I wanted. I am done chasing every self-improvement fad. From now on the only thing that matters is consistency — taking action without a second thought. Yup. JUST DO IT.”
I also looked into careers after biotech. Two names caught my eye: Serum Institute, Mumbai and Reliance Life Sciences. They felt like real options.
One other thing happened this week that stood out: my health got worse. I didn’t write about it before, but now it seems serious. I feel like crying sometimes. I told my parents honestly that I do not want any operation. The thought of operation scares me. My father took time off work to get a doctor’s appointment, but my periods came and things were delayed. My mother scolded me for my bad lifestyle — staying up late, skipping meals, not going out, burying my face in books and laptop. I looked at my father for support, but this time he scolded me too.
Haaye Rabba, vaise to dono ladte jhagadte rahte hai lekin jab baat apne bachho par, especially mere health par aati hai to dono ek saath ho jaate hai, daatne me dono ki mili bhagat hoti hai… 😑🙂
Ab kaise samjhau dono ko ki mai jyada padhai nahi karti hu, mai jo karti hu usko timepass bolte hai… Koi mere parents ko samjhao yaar ki ab mai academics me utna achhi nahi rahi… 😭
Jo kuch bhi ho, mujhe operation nahi karvaana… Darr lagta hai. Hospital, medicine aur mera kaafi purana rishta hai…
